How Could I Forget?
by Arch of Wand
Summary: Pre-Rent. Mark, Roger, Collins, Benny, and Maureen used to live together. Reviews are greatly appreciated! After 4 months, Chapter 19 FINALLY up! Roger's gig, in which many problems ensue.
1. The Past and the Present

Quick Note: (well maybe not that quick) This is my first Rent fic, I love the play so much I just had to write this. As the summary says, it's about when Roger, Mark, Benny, Collins and Maureen used to live together. It takes place about a year before the play starts and I'm hoping to include a lot of the things mentioned in the play. Since they really didn't meet before the play started, I'm afraid Mimi and Angel won't be in this (though I may find a way to sneak in a cameo or two)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Rent characters. They are the property of Jonathan Larson. But, I do own this story and any unfamiliar characters. ENJOY!!

Chapter 1: The Past and the Present

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"Mark! I'm home!" came the voice of Maureen Johnson as she unlocked the door and headed into the apartment.

          "Roger! Benny! Collins! Anyone home?"

Hearing no voice in response, she put down her keys and went through the living room to the bedroom she and her boyfriend Mark shared. It was the biggest of the three bedrooms in the apartment, but not by much. The whole place was small, not nearly big enough for five people to live in, but somehow they managed. She sat down on the bed, taking out her lipstick and reapplying it out of habit. Maureen had been with Mark for two months now, and had just recently moved in with him and his best friends, Roger Davis, the singer/songwriter with a drug addiction, Tom Collins, the teacher with gay pride, and Benny Coffin, the dreamer who hoped to one day get out of the city slums. 

Maureen absentmindedly smoothed the covers on the bed, thinking about Mark when she heard a crash in the other room. Quickly getting to her feet, she went into the adjacent room to find Roger sprawled on the floor, obviously high.

"Roger!" she cried, rushing to his side. Roger's eyes rolled around and focused on her as he muttered a few indistinct words. On the nightstand was a white powder. She stared at it then jerked her eyes back to him.

"Roger what are you doing? Mark said you were gonna stop doing this," she said, grabbing his arm and helping him back into his bed. Roger responded by reaching for the powder, but Maureen snatched it away.

"Hey! I'm back!" came a call from the door.

"Mark! Good you're home!" Maureen called, leaving Roger to meet him in the living room. Mark greeted her with a kiss, hugging her gently; he immediately noticed something was wrong.

"What is it?" he asked, brushing the hair from her face.

"Roger," she replied simply.

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"I'll see what I can do," Mark said, kissing Maureen on the cheek before going in to help his friend.

"Roger? Roger what's going on?" he asked gently, walking into his room. Roger looked over at Mark, but didn't say anything.

"What happened buddy? You said you would stop, why're you doing this to yourself again?"

More silence from Roger. Mark sighed and sat down next to him.

"Are you okay?"

Silence. Mark touched his arm reassuringly.

"You're shivering." he said slowly, hoping if he kept talking Roger would eventually speak. But he didn't. Mark stood up quickly.

"Fine, if this is what you want, I don't care. Go ahead and ruin yourself, it's not my problem," he snapped, then paused and lightened his tone, "Let me know if I can get you anything." he turned on his heel and walked out, angry that he let his annoyance at Roger get to him.

 He remembered when Roger used to be a well-known singer, whose songs were amazing and almost famous. He had been so successful, but one mishap and he had fallen into the world of drug addiction and try as he might, Mark knew he couldn't do anything to fix things. That was what drove him crazy, Roger was his best friend and he couldn't help him. Mark had met Roger when he was only 12 years old, and they had been best friends since. Laughing to himself, Mark remembered how Roger used to write songs on his guitar and he would film the music videos; they had always done stupid things like that as kids, but they never lost their passions as they grew up. Mark still loved to film things, and Roger used to, not so much anymore, love playing his guitar and writing songs. 

_But everything's different now, _Mark thought to himself, _We've both changed. _He could only hope that he didn't lose the friendship he had had for so long because of something so stupid as drugs.  

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So did you like it? Hate it? Let me know, I'm interested to see if I should continue. 


	2. Cats, Fights, and Rubber Bands

Ok, this chapter is a bit longer than the last one, though that may just be because of all the dialogue. A big thanks to Angel of the First Degree, for inspiring me to write this story. If you want to read an amazing story about Angel's past, definitely check out Today 4U: Proof Positive. Well, on to chapter 2!

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Chapter 2: Cats, fights, and rubber bands

Mark and Maureen had had trouble falling asleep that night since at around midnight Roger had decided to go into a laughing fit. When asked what was so funny, Roger had simply pointed at the rubber band in his hand.

"I think I should play this instead of my guitar guys. It sounds so cool!"

 That was around the time Benny and Collins had gotten home, and they were all treated to four hours of rubber band playing since Roger would scream at them all if it was taken away. So by the end of the night all four of them were ready to kill him. The next day though, Roger was back to normal after a nice long sleep, and Mark had put the problem in the back of his mind. He didn't like to dwell on things; it made him edgy. Instead he acted the way he always did, as if it hadn't happened. The five roommates were sitting around the apartment on a Saturday afternoon, which was normal since none of them had lives. 

 "Okay, it's official. April's avoiding me," Roger declared as he stormed from his room, phone in hand.

"Why? What happened?" Mark asked, hanging upside down from the couch.

"She won't answer her phone. I've called her three times today!"

"She may just be, oh I don't know, not home?" Collins answered sarcastically. 

Roger stopped pacing, "Huh, I didn't think of that."

"Genius this one," Mark said, jerking his thumb in Roger's direction. Roger retaliated by throwing the phone at him.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot"

"Oh well then here," Mark threw the phone back at him. Roger was just about to attack Mark when Benny, who jumped up between them, saved him.

"Ok guys, you're both idiots. Chill."

"Who asked you?" Roger and Mark said in unison. Collins rolled his eyes and still glaring at each other, the two sat down on the couch.

"So Mark, got any plans tonight?" Benny asked, getting up to fish through the empty fridge. 

"Nope, do you?" 

"I'm going out to this new club. It's supposed to be really good."

"What's it called?" asked Maureen, who was filing her nails on the couch, oblivious to everything around her.

"Um, cat something. Cat, Cat-"

"Cat Scratch?" Collins interjected.

"That's it! How'd you know?"

"My ex used to go there, he liked to watch this Drag Queen that sang and played drums or something."

"So anyone else going?" Benny asked, finally giving up on the fridge.

"I'm up for it," Roger said immediately, "Mark'll go too."

"Thanks for asking me," Mark said sarcastically.

"Anytime."

"Collins?"

"Nah, that place doesn't bring back good memories. I'll stay here tonight."

"Maureen?"

"I'm there!" 

"Great! We'll head out at around seven. Is that good for you?"

The others agreed, glad that they were able to get out.

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"Does this dress make me look fat?" Maureen asked later, poking her head out of her room and grabbing Mark, who happened to be walking by. He looked at her; she was wearing a tight red dress that fell low on her chest, showing off her cleavage, and had a small slit running up the side of the already short skirt.  

"No, you look great!"

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes, can I have my room now? I need to change too."

"I'm not done yet! I still have two more dresses I'm considering."

"But you tried on three already!"

"How would you know?"

"Collins says you had him trapped in here for fifteen minutes debating whether to wear the straps of your black dress on or off your shoulders."

"That's one"

"You cornered Roger on the stairs wanting to know if you should wear you hair up or down with your bright orange one."

"Two"

"And Benny said you nearly tackled him when he tried to escape from telling you that your white dress was see-through."

"Fine! I'll wear this one! Happy?"

"Very. _Now_ can I get in my room?"

"Oh excuse me for being excited about going out Mark. Because I know how we do all the time so there's really no reason for me to want to look nice," Maureen said sarcastically.

"Don't get on me about taking you out, you know I can't afford it!" Mark said angrily.

"Then get a job!" Maureen yelled back.

"Look who's talking!"

Roger, who had been walking by, heard the argument and quickly reversed direction. He never wanted to get in the middle of a spat between Mark and Maureen since they would often end in- _CRASH …_ something breaking.

"Maureen!"

"Just get out!"

"FINE!" Mark screamed, storming from the room, nearly knocking Roger over as he went downstairs, muttering something under his breath.

"Oh boy, this may not be the best night to go out," Roger said aloud to no one in particular.

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For those of you who are a little slow, the next chapter will feature a few cameos. I'll get working on it right away! Please review!


	3. When I Used to Go Out

Quick note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it really makes my day. Just so you know, I'm going to see Rent for the first time on June 23rd (hopefully, it's not official) so I'm gonna hold off a little on this until I actually see it. I'll probably put in a few more chapters but I won't get too far into the plot until I can see the characters more clearly. I've had lots of help so far to make sure I'm getting them right, but if anyone seems out of place let me know. I think that's it, on to chapter 3!!

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Chapter 3- When I Used to Go Out

An hour later, Benny, Roger, Mark and Maureen left the apartment and headed towards the Cat Scratch club. Roger had to walk in-between Mark and Maureen so that another fight wouldn't break out; not that it mattered since they weren't speaking to each other anyway. Benny tried unsuccessfully to start a conversation, but after a few tries he gave up, figuring that even complete silence was better than constant arguing. However, even complete silence wasn't something they could agree on, and soon they were back to fighting.

"And why did you throw the vase? I thought you liked that."

"I would like it a lot more sticking out of your head."

"Why are you always like this?"

"Like what?"

"_This_"

"What's _this_?"

Mark just made a groaning noise, throwing his arms up in annoyance. Maureen continued to glare at him, staring right through Roger. Benny muttered something quietly.

"What?" Mark and Maureen snapped at the same time.

"Nothing," he said quickly, "Chill out, I wasn't talking about you." Neither of them looked convinced but they didn't say anything. 

Tensions were high by the time they got to the club, and almost instantly Maureen detached herself from the others, saying she had to use the bathroom. Roger could see something in Mark's eyes as he watched her walk away, but he couldn't place what it was. He wasn't very good at emotions; he needed Collins for that sort of thing. He was kind of upset that Collins had decided not to come since it normally was he that fixed the fights. Whenever someone was having problems, Collins was always the first to spot it, and usually the one to solve it. He had a heart bigger than anyone else Roger knew, and to this day he still wasn't sure why they were such good friends being as Roger was constantly told he had no heart at all. Of course, having such a big heart wasn't always a good thing, Roger thought as he remembered all the men who broke Collins's. He was a very trusting individual, and he got burned because of it. It was different though when Collins got hurt, because no one was there to comfort him. 

The three boys quickly found seats at a table, making sure to save a space for when Maureen returned. They watched as different performers came on stage, some sang, some danced, some were boys, some were girls but they all had one thing in common. They all were very provocative. Roger didn't normally go for that kind of thing; he used to, but ever since he met April he shied away from clubs like these. He was convinced that April was the girl he was meant to be with, she was beautiful and caring, and Roger felt as if he was a better person when he was around her. Sometimes he couldn't even feel his cravings for smack; that was how special she was.

"Roger, check that out!" Benny said, breaking into Roger's thoughts. A young woman, she looked hardly older than sixteen, was dancing on stage, her long brown curls flying as she whipped her head around. Her short leather dress showed off her dark Latin skin, as did the handcuffs attached to her wrists. She winked at him before going into a split, causing many of the club patrons to hoot. Roger soon found he couldn't take his eyes off her, though he wasn't sure why. Sure she was beautiful, all the girls here were, and her dancing wasn't spectacular though it certainly entranced him. No, there was something different about her, something he couldn't place. All he knew was, she was different from the rest of the dancers he had seen tonight. The girl leaped off the stage and began to make her way through the crowd, pausing every so often to run her hand along someone's face or ruffle another's hair. As she approached Roger, she smiled, and winked again. Beside him, Benny needed a drool bag. He was watching her so intently Roger was surprised his eyes didn't fall out. Mark, however, wasn't watching the girl at all; he was busy staring at something across the room. The girl brushed past the three, and Roger felt the cold steel of the handcuffs on his arm. For a fleeting moment, he had the urge to rip them off and take her away from the sex-starved club members. She didn't deserve this, why was she here? Why did she do this every night? Roger was shocked at how strongly he felt for this girl when he knew nothing about her. Not even her name.

Suddenly, Mark stood up and walked away, apparently angry at something. Benny wouldn't have noticed if a giant wrecking ball had come crashing through the club, so he didn't see Mark leave. Roger did though, and he was following him instantly. Curious about where Mark was going, he stayed back a few steps, waiting to see what was happening. He was listening to the applause for the handcuff girl when he saw what it was Mark was so mad at. It was Maureen. Apparently she had decided to solve her problems with Mark by flirting with other guys, and Mark had noticed. She was sitting on some guy's lap, giggling when Mark walked over.

"Um, Maureen?" he said quietly. She barely heard his voice but turned around. She let out a shriek, jumped up, and threw her arms around him.

"Pookie!" 

Mark carefully took her arms off his neck, "Maureen, what are you doing?"

"Nothing! I was just talking to some old friends of mine." She smiled at the two men sitting nearby.

"Old friends?"

"Yes, we were old theater buddies, I haven't seen them in a long time, we were just catching up. Where have you been? I've been looking for you."

"I've been with Roger and Benny. Why didn't you come find us?"

"I looked for you sweetie but you weren't around. Then I ran into Charlie and got distracted. I'm sorry if I made you worry."

"Maureen don't you think I know better than that?" he said softly.

"Mark why don't you trust me?"

"I _do_ trust you. It's just… never mind. I just get suspicious when you wander off and I find you with a bunch of guys and…"

"Pookie, I'd never do anything to hurt you," Maureen gently slipped her arms over his neck again, and this time Mark didn't pull away. Roger looked away in disgust; he knew Maureen wasn't "talking with some old friends" unless she'd come here before to meet with these guys. He couldn't figure out why Mark had let the issue go so easily, he knew that if he caught April with some other guy he'd be pretty upset. But then again, Mark let a lot of things go easily; nothing really bothered him. Roger had no idea how he did it, but somehow he managed to not let even the most painful things affect him; it was like he had some way of detaching from reality. Maybe it was because he was a filmmaker; maybe he could hide behind the camera when filming. But how could he still detach when he wasn't behind it?

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Please review, I'll give you a big hug!!!


	4. Detaching

Notes: Thanks again to reviews, I finally know exactly where I'm going with this, so I'll be able to update quicker now. I'm gonna shut up and let you read cause I have nothing to say.

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Chapter 5: Detaching

Maureen made sure to be extra nice to Mark the rest of the night, and by the time they got home she was being so sweet that Collins knew immediately something had happened. The couple sat down on the couch, and Maureen shoved her tongue down Mark's throat almost instantly.

"Night went well?" Collins asked.

"Guess you could say that," Benny replied, sitting down on the other side of the couch, as far away from Mark and Maureen as he could. Roger sighed, tossing his coat on the table.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Collins.

"Nothing," Roger said, running his hand through his hair, "I'm just tired I guess." The truth however, was that Roger still couldn't get that girl out of his mind, and he was beginning to get angry with himself. 

_You're in love with April,_ Roger told himself, _You can't do this._

Yet the more he tried to block her from his mind, the harder it became, and the angrier he got. As he fought inwardly with himself, a new feeling began to surface; it was his craving. He needed his smack. That would make the girl go away, that would make everything go away.

          "Well, I'm going to bed," Benny said, getting up and stretching.

          "Ok, see ya tomorrow," Collins said.

          "No you won't, I gotta get up early; I have a job now remember?"

          "Oh yeah."

          " 'Night." Benny said, heading up to his room.

Maureen giggled, "We're going to bed too," she said, taking Mark's hand and leading him upstairs.

          "Bed my ass," Roger said.

          "Nope, bed is _exactly_ where they'll be." Collins replied, making Maureen give them a dirty look before disappearing into her bedroom.

          Roger looked around, "Funny how we can clear out a room huh?"

          "Yeah, you'd think they didn't like us or something."

"No they just don't like you," Roger joked.

"Oh you're nice."

"Sure am."

"So, what's going on?" Collins asked, suddenly becoming serious.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know; you seem kinda distant. What are you thinking about?"

"April," Roger said, which was partially true.

"Don't worry, she'll call."

"Yeah…" Roger said slowly, staring out the window. All he wanted was to go upstairs and get his smack.

"It's not just that," he found himself saying, "It's that… I think I love her, but tonight," his voice trailed off.

"Tonight what?"

"Never mind."

Collins leaned in closer, in case anyone came down and overheard them, "You can tell me you know, I won't tell anyone. I won't even tell Mark."

"No, it doesn't matter. Besides, Mark doesn't care, he's in love with Maureen and life is just dandy."

Collins snorted.

"Oh yeah I forgot, you have a very high opinion of love don't you?" Roger said, smiling.

"Yeah," Collins said, smiling as well, "It's not so much that, I just don't think they're in love. Maybe Mark loves her but… I don't know I don't get the same feeling from Maureen. And I'm good at this sorta thing."

"Right, Collins is the master of _love_" Roger said playfully.

"That's right! And don't you forget it!"

"Don't worry, I won't."

"So, what happened tonight that's got you questioning your love with April?"

"What makes you think I'm questioning it?"

"Why else would you bring it up and then not want to talk about it?"

"Plenty of reasons," Roger said, though he couldn't think of any, "Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

"You sure? You know, I worry about you Roger," Collins said softly.

"Why are you worrying about me?"

"Because… I don't know; you're just acting weird lately. I know you didn't stop shooting up even though you told Mark you were going to."

"So Mark's been blabbing?"

"No, he told me cause he's worried about you too. You can't get back in the habit of doing this, you could hurt yourself-"

"One time!" Roger practically yelled, "I did it once in a long time. It's not like I do it every day!"

"Yeah, and I slept with that guy 'one time' and look where I ended up. I have AIDS."

Roger fell silent. Collins never brought up the fact that he was HIV+; he didn't want people feeling sorry for him, or hating him. Roger knew that he must really be worried to say something like that, but he wasn't going to be scared out of doing anything. He wasn't going to stop doing the only thing that made him happy just because Collins and Mark were 'worried about him'. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to get AIDS from smack; people got it from sleeping around, and he was loyal to April, so he didn't have to worry. Why would Collins compare the two when they had nothing in common?

"I'm sorry Roger, it's not my place to tell you what to do. You live your life the way you want to right?"

"Right," Roger said, feeling worse than he already did, "Look I'm gonna go to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"I got a class, but I'll see you in the afternoon."

"Yeah, okay. 'Night."

Roger walked slowly up the stairs, past Benny's room, hearing no sounds inside and knowing he was already asleep. He then passed Mark and Maureen's room, there were plenty of noises coming from there; he ignored them and went into his own room, shutting the door behind him. He went to his bed and pulled up his mattress, taking out a bag of white powder and a needle and syringe. _I'm running low, _he thought, _I'll get more tomorrow. _

After checking to make sure the door was securely locked to prevent Collins from checking up on him, Roger sat down on the bed and filled the syringe. He barely felt the needle as it pierced his skin; he had done this far too many times for it to hurt any more. On the contrary, as he watched the needle pump the drug into his body, he began to feel better, as he watched the handcuff girl disappear from his mind. Everything began to disappear; it was pure bliss.

_There's no way I can stop this,_ he thought, _It's the only way I can escape._

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please review


	5. Back on the Street

Great news! Thanks to some wonderful luck (and an equally wonderful mother) I was able to see Rent 3 weeks before I was supposed to. I saw it June 7, Sebastian Arcelus's second to last show. (he was great by the way). So I've really been inspired by seeing the show so hopefully this will be better now. On to chapter 5!

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Chapter 5: Back on the Street

The next morning, Roger slept late, getting over the remains of his midnight fix. When he finally got up it was around 12:30 in the afternoon, and the house was empty. He leaned against the doorframe, his temples pounding as he fought to remember where everyone was. Benny had work, yes that's right, he got a new job at Grey Communications. Collins worked too… Collins told him something, what was it? And where was Mark? Who knows, maybe filming something with Maureen. No, he didn't love Maureen; he loved April. That's what Collins said, that he wasn't in love, or she wasn't in love. April didn't love him. But he loved April, Roger loved April, he watched her dance last night.

Roger continued to confuse himself, slipping in and out of consciousness, as he fought his way downstairs to the couch. He lay down, his head swimming in his own thoughts. The door opened, creaking loudly.

"Who is it?" Roger asked groggily.

"It's Mark"

_Shit! _Roger thought, _he's gonna kill me._

"Oh hi." __

"What are you doing?" Mark asked.

"Trying to sleep." _There's something I have to tell him._

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," Mark said, not sounding convinced.

"It's ok."_ Don't tell him, he doesn't want to know._

"You ok?"

_No don't start; I don't want you to get mad at me._

 "Roger?"

_Just lay here, you don't feel well… that's it, if he asks, you're sick._

"Are you ok?" Mark repeated, slightly louder.

"Sick," Roger blurted.

"Really? When did this happen?"

_Stupid idiot, he can't even tell when I'm faking._

Mark sat down next to him, "Can I get you something?"

"No, I'm good."

_Tell him what Collins said; he has to know. No he can't, he loves her…_

"When did you start feeling sick?"

"Last night."

"What do you think caused it?"

_You probably know already._

"You sure you're ok?" Mark asked once again.

"Yeah, just tired."

_He doesn't believe me_

"I have to tell you something." said Roger suddenly.

"What?"

"You love her."

"Who?"

"You love April."

Mark looked at him, surprised, "No I don't."

"You love her, but she doesn't love you."

"April?"

"Maureen."

Mark's happy and curious mood vanished almost instantly; he looked shocked and hurt and almost mad that Roger would say something like that.

"Listen," Mark said, trying to blow it off, "You're high Roger, don't look at me like I'm crazy, I can tell. And I've told you before, you can't do this anymore and I could throw your ass in rehab right now and it would serve you right-"

"She loves you." Roger interrupted.

"You just said she didn't!"

"I lied ok?"

"Why? Why would you lie?!"

Roger threw his head back, his forehead throbbing.

"Stop yelling," he said, "My head's gonna explode."

"Sorry," Mark said, lowering his voice, "It's just… why would you say that? Besides the obvious that you're doing smack _again after you promised you stop and… God Roger, I'm sick of watching you hurt yourself!"_

"Yeah I know, Collins told me."

"He did? When?"

"Last night after you went to bed."

"Yeah well, it's true. Look, when you started this whole thing, I was sympathetic, I knew you were hurting so I didn't say anything, but I'm sick of it. You need to stop, period."

"You can't tell me what to do," Roger said, sounding like a child.

"Yeah well, no one else is going to so I might as well."

"Ok fine, point taken, just stop sounding like my mother."

Mark laughed, "Oh please don't tell me that."

"Well you do!" he imitated him mother's high-pitched voice, " 'Oh Roger honey I just don't understand you lately, you've become so strange.' "

"I do not sound like that!" Mark said indignantly.

"Yes you do!"

"Ok fine, I'll shut up."

"Thank-you!"

They sat around for a while, and around 15 minutes later Roger stood up slowly.

"Where're you going?" Mark asked, looking up from his latest screenplay that he was looking over.

"I'm gonna go for a walk." he said, grabbing his leather jacket.

"Want me to go with you?"

"Nah, I just need some fresh air, my head hurts."

"Gee I wonder why," Mark muttered.

"I heard that." Roger said, smiling, "Look, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it," Mark said after Roger disappeared out the door, "You're my best friend."

Slowly, he turned his camera on, pointing it at himself.

"I know I don't normally film for the sake of filming, but today I make an exception. I came home again today to find Roger nearly passed out on the couch; he's gone out for a walk, and when he left I literally could see his body shaking from the way he was shivering. I feel like I have to help him and I'm not sure how I can, since he doesn't want to be helped. I know Collins has talked to him, I asked him to, but nothing we say is getting through to him. And today Roger told me that Maureen doesn't love me. I don't know why I'm dwelling on it, he was talking nonsense the whole time, he didn't know what he was saying, but still, I can't help but wonder…" Mark's voice trailed off.

"Anyway," he said, catching himself, "Maureen was acting suspicious last night but she promised she wouldn't do anything to hurt me and I trust her. I trust her because I love her, and I'm not just saying that because I can. I don't know, maybe I'm going crazy or something, it would make sense, I'm talking to a camera! But, I don't know, I guess I'm just confused as to what to do next." 

He switched off the camera and put it down next to him. He wished he could go back to the days where he could tell Roger his problems instead of his camera, but he couldn't; Roger's addiction sat higher than Mark on his list of priorities. Once again, Mark found himself growing angry at what Roger had done to himself, and he still couldn't figure out why that was. 

"Not like it matters," Mark said to himself, "He'll never listen to me."

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Roger pulled his jacket closer to him, he was sweating like a pig but it was a cold February afternoon. He felt lightheaded and irritated, but it didn't matter, his smack would make it go away. Somehow what was once his small pleasure had turned into his greatest necessity; it was starting to control him. He headed away from the loft and down the street, looking for the place where he normally bought his stash. He had only gone a few blocks when he heard several voices talking, one of which he recognized.

          "How much this time?" asked a female voice.

          "For you? 25." answered the voice Roger recognized to be the man he bought his stash from. As he walked closer he saw the familiar burly frame of the man whose name he didn't know, handing a bag a white powder to a young woman who looked strangely familiar.

          "Thanks," the girl said quietly.

          "No problem," the man said, smiling, "Come back anytime you need more."

          "Sure."

          "And who's this?" the man said, gesturing to someone Roger couldn't see, "Newcomer? I give discounts."

          "No thanks," the person answered, "I'm not into that. Come on Mimi we have to go, we're late for work."

          Roger stepped closer and saw that the "newcomer" was a drag queen who was wearing a bright red skirt and a glittering black halter-top. 

          "I'm coming Angel," the girl answered after a moment, turning around to face him. As soon as she had turned, Roger recognized her; it was the handcuff girl. She looked much thinner and wasted without the makeup; she was wearing a simple very short black dress with lace sleeves. She smiled at him as he approached, but it didn't look like she recognized him. The drag queen gave him a short, sweet smile as the two left quickly, heading in the direction of the club where he had seen her the night before.

          "Well well well, what have we here?" the man asked, spotting Roger, "Back so soon?"

          "Yeah sure whatever, how much?" Roger asked impatiently.

          "Busy? Got somewhere to go? No problem, we'll get right down to business."

          "Fine, how much?"

          "30."

          "What? But you just charged her 25!" Roger yelled, gesturing in the direction the handcuff girl had gone.

          "Calm down! You wanna get picky go ahead, but I don't like when people yell," the man said, slowly putting the package away.

          "No wait! Here," Roger said, thrusting the money into his hand, "Take it."

          "Pleasure doing business with you."

          "Yeah sure." Roger turned away, staring at the packet in his hand. He was home free; all he needed to do was hide it underneath his mattress and wait until Mark wasn't around… he smiled at the idea of leaving the world behind again.

          "Roger?" he heard a voice call. He whipped his head around to see who had called him and his face fell when he saw Collins standing on the corner. His arms were crossed and the look on his face said he had saw the whole thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Review por favor!


	6. I Once Was Born To Be Bad

Chapter 6: I Once Was Born To Be Bad

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Collins crossed the street and walked over to Roger, a disapproving look in his eyes.

          "Hey," Roger said, trying to stay casual, "What are you doing here?"

          "Just got done with a class. And why are you out here?"

          Roger looked at his feet, feeling the guilt that had appeared when he talked to Mark begin to resurface.

          "I'm just out for a walk."

          "Really?"

          Roger shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying desperately not to look his friend in the eye.

          "I was just on my way home," Collins said, "You coming?"

          "Yeah, ok." 

_Maybe I should tell him about the drag queen. _Roger joked to himself,_ He'd probably forget the whole thing if I set them up. He didn't voice the idea; Collins didn't seem to be in a very good mood._

"So how was your class?" Roger asked tentatively.

"Fine, how was your walk?"

"Fine."

They walked down the block in silence, which was driving Roger crazy; he preferred that Collins just start yelling at him, to tell him what an idiot he was and how he was throwing his life away or something. This silence… it was worse.

He slipped a hand in his pocket and felt the packet he just bought; now he didn't feel as good about having it. Collins hadn't said anything, he was pretending that nothing had happened, and Roger knew he should be relieved but he wasn't; he felt almost as if he _wanted to be reprimanded. But that didn't make any sense; no one went around looking for trouble. Maybe that's why he liked it so much; he liked that rebel feeling. _

Dammit Collins, Roger thought to himself, I hate when you use that reverse psychology crap. 

            Out of the corner of his eye, Roger could have sworn he saw Collins smile slightly. He rolled his eyes, determined not to let Collins win this argument that he was having with himself. Eventually, he couldn't take the silence anymore.

          "You know, I hate when you do this," He stated.

          "What? I didn't say a thing," Collins replied, starting to smirk.

          "Exactly! You say nothing so that I start telling myself all the things you would tell me and then I end up arguing with myself!"

          Collins chuckled, "Sounds to me like you need serious medication if you talk to yourself."

          Roger pushed him with his shoulder, "No, I just need you to stop doing that."

          "Why? It works."

          Ok so he had a point.

          "No it doesn't," Roger said.

          "Yes it does."

          "No."

          "Yes."

          "No!"

          "Ok we sound like three year olds," Collins said, laughing again, "And obviously it does or else you wouldn't have brought it up."

          Another good point.

          "I didn't bring it up," Roger said, even though he knew he had, "What makes you think that?"

          "You really want me to answer that?"

          "You know, one of these days I am going to find something that I can rag on you about and then _you_ will get all this and _you_ will be the one on the losing side of the argument!"

          "So you admit you're losing?"

          Roger looked away, "No, I never said that."

          Collins coughed.

          "Ok fine!" Roger admitted, "Man you're annoying."

          Collins grinned, "Glad to hear it. See isn't this better than us screaming at each other?"

          "No, not really," Roger grumbled.

          Collins: 10, Roger: 0

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

          "Hey! Anyone home?" Collins called as the two walked into the loft.

          "Yeah!" Mark's voice called out, "I'm in my room, be out in a second."

          Roger threw his coat onto the couch and sat down next to it, Collins hopped onto the table, picking up Mark's latest screenplay and studying it. Mark emerged from his room, clad only in jeans and running a towel over his damp hair.

          "Just take a shower?" Roger asked.

          "I was bored."

          "Oh so that's what it takes to make you shower! I'll keep that in mind next time you start to smell." Collins said, grinning.

          Mark threw the towel at him, hitting in right in the face, "You know, you're not very funny."

          "Yes I am!" 

          Suddenly there was a large racket coming from the hallway.

          "Benny's home!" Mark said, going to unlock the door.

          "You are not going to believe this!" Benny exclaimed, walking in with a look of pride on his face.

          "What?" Mark asked, only mildly interested.

          "You know Mr. Grey's daughter Alison?" 

          "Not personally," Roger replied.

          "Well, from the way Mr. Grey was talking about her, I expected her to be some pig-tailed braces-wearing twelve year old but she is _hot_! I was talking to her this morning and wow!"

          "Red flag going up there amigo," Collins said, getting up, "Rule number 1: No hitting on your boss's daughter. Past experiences tell me that's a serious no-no."

          "You hit on your boss's daughter?" Roger asked, surprised.

          "Well, son, but same idea. I got fired and escorted off the premises. Of course, not before I got his cell phone number but that's beside the point."

          "But she is _gorgeous_! Not to mention successful, I mean if we get together I may actually be able to open up that studio we talked about."

          "I doubt that. You'd have to marry her _and_ get on her father's good side at the same time in order for that to happen," Mark noted.

          Benny smiled, "Anything's possible."

          Roger rolled his eyes, Benny was one of his closest friends but he was such a dreamer.

          "Ok fine, I'll wait a while," Benny said, seeing the looks on everyone's faces, "How's a week sound?"

          Collins shook his head, "You are insane my friend, but I hope it works for you."

          "Thanks man, hey I just got a paycheck so dinner's on me tonight."

          "Works for me!" Mark said quickly, "Just let me change and I'll be ready."

          "We should probably wait for Maureen," Collins said slowly.

          Mark smiled, "Or we could do that."

          Roger stood up, "I'm gonna go get changed, I look like crap."

          "Since when do you care about what you look like?" Benny asked.

          "Since two seconds ago," Roger replied, looking at his watch. 

He headed up to his room, shutting the door behind him. Slowly, he took out the packet of smack from his pocket and went to his mattress to get his needle. As he held the syringe up to fill it, he remembered his conversation with Collins; or rather his conversation with himself saying what Collins would have said. 

Isn't this better than us screaming at each other? 

Roger stared at the packet in his hand; did he really want to do this? He hated when Mark and Collins were mad at him; they were his best friends. Maybe he could go today without shooting up, everyone was in a good mood and he had to hang with them all night so they'd know if he was high.

Slowly, he went over to the trashcan in the corner and held the packet over it; he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of this whole problem but at the same time he felt the need to have his smack around. He needed it for when days were hard, when he couldn't take everything; hell, now he needed it for pretty much everything. But he couldn't keep lying to his friends, leaving the world behind whenever times got hard. He needed to fight harder. 

Feeling as if he was pulling his fingers out of cement, he let go and watched the packet fall into the garbage. He felt an enormous weight lift from his chest, and he hoped this was a possible step towards leaving the addiction behind.

"That was great."

Roger turned around quickly; Collins was standing in the doorway, watching him. Roger had been so distracted with what he was doing he hadn't heard the door open.

"What made you do it?" Collins asked.

"Because," Roger replied slowly, "There's this lost cause I believe in called myself."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I don't know if it's evident, but Sebastian's performance really inspired me, I can see Roger much clearer now. Hopefully that will improve the story. Please Review!


	7. Real Love

          Ok, sorry for the long wait, I've had the worst case of writer's block (ok not the worst but it was pretty bad). Just so you know, this chapter is pretty pointless, I was in a sappy romantic mood so I started writing and here's what popped out. It's short too, but I wanted to get another chapter out before I lose myself completely to the writer's block disease. So basically, hope you enjoy, let me know what you think.

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          Chapter 7: Real Love

Three weeks later Roger was doing much better. He hadn't given up the drug completely, but he had at least cracked down on the number of times he was shooting up. He had to admit, if it weren't for the support, mainly from Collins and Mark, he wouldn't have gotten as far as he had. Still, the support was difficult to get, being as Roger was becoming a serious pain in the butt or, as Maureen put it, a bitch. He became irritable and angry whenever he had gone a few days without his smack, and even though he apologized for it over and over it still didn't make him any more pleasant to live with. 

          "Mark?" Maureen asked quietly, walking into the loft and spotting her boyfriend laying on the floor writing, "What are you doing?"

          "I've had inspiration!" he said quickly, "I think I know what I'm gonna do with my movie now."

          "Which one is this?" Maureen asked, sitting down next to him and examining the screenplay in his hand.

          "The one about the couple who are constantly at odds but love each other to the point where that doesn't matter."

          Maureen looked at the floor, feeling slightly guilty, "Where'd you get the idea for that one?"

          "It just came to me," Mark replied, sitting up, "People love angst, so I think I'm gonna have her move away or something so that the distance separates them but their love still has to survive. "

          She looked at him intently, "Mark that's beautiful."

          He smiled shyly, "You think so?"

          "Well, when two people are in love, nothing should come between them, but when something does, they have to know that their love is strong enough to make it through. That's what true love is; when no matter how bad life is, you're not scared, because you know you'll always have that someone around."

          "And you thought what I said was beautiful." Mark said, wrapping his arms around her. 

          She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling his comforting weight. She did love him, he was a wonderful person with a kind heart, but she wasn't sure if she loved him the way he wanted her to. 

          "Maureen?" he asked softly.

          "Yeah?"

          "I'm sorry if I don't trust you sometimes. It just that I really care about you and I couldn't bear it if I lost you."

_Oh sure make me feel worse,_ Maureen thought to herself.

"I understand," she said, moving closer to him, "I know sometimes I can be a bit… unpredictable, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you too. I don't want to hurt you."

          "I know. It's just, I'm trying to help Roger work through his problems and Benny's so excited about Alison that he could care less about anyone's problems but his own and Collins just met someone and I don't want to bother them but you know, I've got problems too. Sometimes I need someone to listen while I talk, instead of it being the other way around."

          "I'm always here," Maureen offered, "You can tell me anything, I promise."

          "No, because you are the problem. I don't mean that in a bad way," he added quickly, noting the indignant look in her eyes, "I mean, I don't get to spend as much time with you as I'd like to and I wish I could just let the world deal with their problems and it just be you and me but I can't."

          "You have a big heart Mark, there's nothing wrong with that!"

          "I know, but still…"

          "Mark, I know I've gotten annoyed with you about not being with me a lot, but things are different now. You're trying to help your friend, and you've got an awful lot of patience because I would have beaten Roger over the head by now; so don't worry about me, I'll still be here."

          Mark pulled her closer, feeling her breath against his skin; he loved her so much it hurt to think about what would happen if he ever lost her.

          "Thanks," Mark whispered, kissing her softly.

          "Anytime pookie," she replied, returning the kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roger lay back on his bed, his head swimming. He hated this feeling; the annoyance at himself because of his need for drugs. Mark constantly reminded him that he couldn't help that feeling; it wasn't his fault, that his addiction demanded his full attention. Still, that didn't make him feel much better; he wanted this all to go away. 

He rolled over to stare at the clock; it was already 8:30 at night. He could hear everyone in the living room through the paper-thin walls, they were going about their lives as usual; they didn't have to feel sick all the time, knowing that the one thing that would make them feel better was the one thing they were trying to get rid of. 

_They have no idea what I'm going through, _Roger thought bitterly. It was true; Mark would tell him that he knew what Roger was going through, but he didn't. Mark didn't know what it was like to hate your body because it craved something he knew would someday kill him; he didn't know how hard it was to fight himself everyday.  Collins would always say how his friends were there for him, that Roger didn't have to worry because he had support from people who loved him. Well now the support seemed meaningless, no one could help him because they didn't know how. In the end, Roger knew he was the only one who could help him, and that didn't lift his spirits at all. 

"Roger?" came a tentative voice from the doorway. Roger looked up to see a slim young woman standing in the doorway.

"April?"

She smiled, "Surprised to see me?"

Roger sat up slowly, "Well yeah I mean, you don't normally come here."

"I missed you," she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Then why didn't you ever call me back?"

"I've been busy."

"Yeah well I've been busy too but at least I made an effort."

"Don't start up with me, please," she said, looking at the floor, "I came here because I wanted to apologize. Collins told me what you've been doing and I'm really proud of you."

Roger rolled his eyes, "I haven't been doing anything."

"Yes you have," she said, looking up at him, "you've started to care about yourself."

"What?" Roger asked, confused.

She took his hand gently, "Roger, the reason I haven't been around lately is because I've been questioning a lot of things. I've been questioning us. I was angry that your need for smack came before me, I felt like you didn't love me."

"I do love you," Roger interjected, pulling her closer to him.

"I know, but I wasn't feeling that way before. You see, I've always felt that you can never share real love until you love yourself. And you obviously didn't love yourself, because you were willing to hurt yourself to try and hide from your pain-"

"That's not true!" Roger snapped, "I wasn't hiding from anything."

"Well whatever you were doing, it wasn't good. And I thought, 'how in the world could he love me if he's willing to put me in this pain?'"

"What pain?"

"The pain of watching you die Roger!" she said, her voice rising, "I care about you, and I don't want to see you get hurt doing something so stupid. I thought that you'd care enough about me to not do that to me."

"I'm not quitting smack for you," he said seriously.

"I know you're not," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him gently, "That's what I realized. You can't do this for me, or Mark, or Collins, or anybody else. You have to want to do it for yourself."

Roger leaned back against his pillow, thinking about what his girlfriend just told him. Was he doing this for himself, or was it because everyone wanted him to? 

April moved closer and Roger put his arms around her, holding her gently against him. Her brown hair fell over his eyes and he brushed it away. She smiled at him, her warm honey eyes glowing.

"I love you," she whispered, resting her head on his chest.

"I love you too," he answered after a moment.

They lay together in silence for a while, neither one feeling the need to move from where they were. 

_Yes,_ Roger thought after a while, _I am doing this for myself. I love April, and I love my friends, and I don't want to cause them pain, but most of all, I want to be able to be happy._

And for the first time in weeks, Roger found a smile creep across his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just like I said before, short and sappy. Review if you feel like it, it makes me smile =)


	8. Thank God For The Moon

I know what you're thinking, an update in two days? Yes that's right, Little Risa stayed up until 10:30 and wrote this whole chapter in one sitting. As you'll soon be able to tell, I was in a foreshadowing kind of mood.

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Chapter 8: Thank God For the Moon

"Hey Collins, what are you doing?" Mark asked, walking into the apartment a few days later.

Collins was sitting at the kitchen counter, which was actually a table that was full of half eaten Chinese food cartons and other garbage, pouring over a bunch of papers.

"I'm working on something," he said after a moment, his eyes not leaving the table.

"Well I figured that," Mark replied, throwing his coat onto the couch and peering over his friend's shoulder, "What is it you're working on?"

"It's an application for MIT" Collins responded, shuffling a few papers to his left until he came across the one he was looking for.

"MIT?" Mark said, surprised, "But isn't that in Massachusetts?"

"Well being as it does stand for 'Massachusetts Institute of Technology' I would assume it's in Massachusetts." Collins responded, grinning.

"Smart ass," Mark said, hitting Collins over the head.

Collins just rolled his eyes and went back to examining his papers.

"So why do you want to go there?" Mark asked.

"Because one, I could get a good pay raise at NYU if I've had training there, and two, it's a great place to spread my theory."

"Oh yeah, 'Actual Reality' that's right," Mark said, blowing out an exasperated breath. When Collins had first came up with his theory it was all he talked about for two weeks straight; not happy memories.

"So where've you been?" Collins asked, finally putting down his pen.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"I've been working for three hours straight. I think I deserve a break. So what did you do?"

"Nothing, just walked around, filmed stuff, looked for inspiration. My life is boring."

"Sounds like it," Collins said, flashing a grin.

"Now Benny on the other hand, his life is boring too but at least he makes it sound exciting."

"What do you mean?"

"Well you know he started dated that Amy girl-"

"Alison" Collins corrected.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, apparently she must like him cause she wanted him to help her pick out a dog."

"What?"

"Exactly! What's so special about a dog? But according to Benny, this is the sign that she's into him and she wants to marry him and have his babies and blah blah blah. It's a freakin' dog!"

"So did they get one?"

"I don't know; I zoned out halfway through the conversation," Mark said, using his hand to imitate Benny blabbing on and on. 

Collins laughed, "Well if it makes him happy…"

"Hey everyone! Collins you're not gonna guess what I did today!" came a voice behind them.

"Speak of the devil," Mark muttered before turning around, a huge fake smile on his face.

"Benny!" he said enthusiastically, "Hey how're you? Listen I gotta run, why don't you tell Collins all about your day. Sorry bud, but better you than me," he added quietly to Collins before retreating to his bedroom.

Benny watched Mark's quick escape curiously before turning to Collins, smiling energetically, "So guess what I did?"

"I'm gonna take a shot in the dark… did you get a dog with Alison today?"

"Woah, how'd you know?"

"Mark told me a few seconds ago," Collins said simply.

"Oh," Benny said, clearly disappointed, like a kid who didn't get to tell his friends about a new toy he had just received. 

Collins noticed his change in tone and even though he really didn't want to hear about it, he smiled, "He didn't tell me any details, just that you two went looking for a dog. Did you get one?"

Benny's face lit up again, "Yeah, it's a cute one too, an Akita. Alison hasn't named it yet; she was still deciding when I left. She's gonna call when she decides because it's 'our dog' and she wants to make sure I like the name."

"You really like her don't you," Collins asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah. I really think she's something special. I mean, I've been with other girls before but, have you ever gotten the feeling that you're just with 'the one'?"

"Not yet," Collins said, shaking his head slowly, "But I know what you're talking about."

 "You just want to spend every moment with them, but you never get sick of them either."

"You feel like your whole when you're with them."

Benny looked at his friend, he could see the longing in his eyes, the longing for that kind of love.

"We need to get you a boyfriend," he said, smiling.

Collins chuckled, "I have one remember? Karl?"

"Oh yeah," Benny said, nodding, "I don't like him."

"Why?"

"Because, he's just not… you."

"And what exactly is me?"

"I don't know, but it's just not him."

"Yeah, I've kinda been feeling that way too. But it's too early to tell, I'll give it a little while before chucking him out."

Benny grinned, "You do that. Hey Collins?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinking, if I do end up marrying Alison, and I know that's gonna be a while away but still, she's not gonna want me living here. Not just this apartment but this area, her family's pretty rich and I think between my money and her money we could get a good place. I just don't want her to have to live in this kinda place. Not that I'm saying it's bad I just-" 

"Hey I understand," Collins said, nodding, "Don't worry, we'll still be friends. I don't care where you live, you'll always be the same old Benny right?"

"Right," Benny said, smiling.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So where are we going?" April asked, hand in hand with her boyfriend as they walked down the street.

"You'll see, I want to surprise you," Roger replied, kissing her.

It was late at night, the city was alive with lights and color, and the two lovers were strolling to an unknown destination until Roger decided to reveal where it was. 

"Tell me where we're going," April said, tugging on Roger's arm.

"No."

"Tell me tell me tell me!" she nagged, a bright smile on her face.

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"But by then I'll already know!"

"Well that's the only time I'm telling so you're gonna have to wait."

"You're no fun!" she said, lightly hitting him on the arm.

Roger smiled, pulling her close to him. It was times like these when he found it the easiest to be without his drugs, times when he was happy on life's natural highs.  April was, even though she didn't know it, his biggest supporter. These times, when he could smell her hair, touch her skin, look into her eyes; those were the times when he completely forgot about everything in the world. He knew he loved her; she was the only thing that mattered to him. And he believed that as long as she was there, nothing could go wrong.

Roger stopped suddenly, April following suit. He turned and smiled at her, "Ok close your eyes."

"Why?" she asked cautiously.

"Because it's a surprise!" he repeated.

Letting out an exasperated breath, April closed her eyes and held Roger's hand tightly.

"Ok, just go where my hand leads you okay?"

"Follow the sound of your voice," April teased, her eyes still closed.

As he led her forward, she could feel the ground change beneath her, it was no longer hard and tough like pavement, instead it had give and spring. 

Curiously she called out, "Where are we going?"

"Keep your eyes closed and you'll find out in a second"

April sighed, but did as she was told.

"Ok, now you can open your eyes," Roger said finally.

April's eyes flew open and she quickly lost her breath. The moon was shining brightly over the treetops; casting a beautiful white glow on the small park Roger had led her to.  The patterns from the leaves reflected in shadows on the ground, and April could see the bright glow from the moon on Roger's face, illuminating his smile. 

"It's beautiful," she whispered, "How did you know…"

"I can see this sometimes from the fire escape outside the apartment. When I watched the people in the park, they looked like angels, the way they glowed," he stepped back to look at April clearly, "So I brought you here because I wanted to show you, you're the angel now."

April looked down at herself, seeing the patterns of the tree leaves on her clothes, she felt beautiful.

"Oh Roger," she said slowly, "This is so amazing."

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, the moon shining down on them. The moon was always something Roger took for granted, something that was always there, something he had to share with the other 6 billion people in the world. But tonight, the moon was his, his and April's.

          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As you probably noticed, now that April has made an appearance I'm having way too much fun writing love scenes between her and Roger. Don't worry, they _do have a purpose._


	9. Fighting a Losing Battle

After _forever,_ a short chapter. 

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Chapter 9: Fighting a Losing Battle

"Hey Rog? I was looking for my- hello!"

Mark had accidentally walked in on Roger and April having a little "alone time". He chuckled, staring at the floor as the two lovers scrambled away from each other, at least this time they were fully clothed.

"Um, yeah, hey Mark," Roger said, running a hand through his hair in an embarrassed way, "What were you looking for?"

"My extra film, I wanna test something."

Roger smiled playfully, "You expect me to know where it is? The last time I touched your film I put it back."

"You know…"

April smiled as she watched the best friends tease each other. Ever since she had met Roger at one of his band gigs she had never been able to see how the two were so close since they were exact opposites. Roger was rebellious and moody but had a softer side hidden underneath; Mark was awkward and geeky, and he didn't feel much of anything. Maybe that was why they were such good friends, Mark gave Roger a calmer side and Roger helped Mark be a bit more dangerous. After all, it had been Roger who put Mark and Maureen together.

"What do you want the film for anyway?" Roger asked, taking his arm out from around April and scooting to the end of the bed.

"Oh I have to go up to Scarsdale for a few days. My sister Cindy just had a baby and it's one of those stupid family get-togethers and I'm sure they'll want me to film some of it for a home movie or something." Mark replied, rolling his eyes.

Roger smiled, if there was one thing Mark hated more than anything, it was family get-togethers. He had been born into a fairly rich family, his father was a doctor and so they had been able to afford to live in one of the richer neighborhoods when he was growing up. When he was 14, Mark had to go to a public school that included other neighborhoods, including Roger's. They had met freshman year and Roger had introduced him to a more… rock and roll way of life. As they grew up, and their friendship got closer, Mark's parents disapproved of Roger's rebellious nature and they nearly had a heart attack when he told them he didn't want to be a doctor like his father and instead wanted to be a filmmaker. After graduating High School, the best friends had moved to the city to pursue their careers and Mark rarely spoke to his parents.

"When are you going up?" Roger asked, looking at his friend with compassion. 

"Tomorrow. My mom just called and told me."

"Well good luck."

"With what? Finding my film or dealing with my parents?"

"Both."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roger awoke with a start, breathing heavily. He had just had the same reoccurring nightmare for the third night in a row, the one he'd been having ever since he tried to stop taking drugs. He never could remember it, which he didn't understand because it always scared him senseless. No one knew about it either, he couldn't tell Mark because he may think Roger was stupid for getting so worked up about a dream, and he couldn't tell Collins because he might get even more worried about him and never give him a moment's peace. 

Shivering uncontrollably, Roger stood up and paced around his bedroom, trying to warm up and shake off the dream. He knew that neither of his friends would react negatively if he told them, but he was still apprehensive, he wanted to keep his pride. He ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm them, but he was still insanely cold. As he continued to pace, he felt a familiar feeling rise inside of him, a feeling he had fought so desperately against for three weeks, sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing. He wanted his smack.

"No, you've been doing good, there's no reason," he whispered to himself, moving away from the mattress where he had his stash hidden. He opened his door slowly and edged into the hallway, being careful not to make any noise.  He moved into the living room and turned on a light, he just needed a few minutes to calm down and wait for the craving to pass. 

He moved over towards the kitchen, which was just the other side of the living room, looking at the pile of papers crammed on the table. He shifted through them slowly, recognizing Collins's handwriting. 

"MIT?" he asked out loud. Why was Collins applying for MIT? He was working at NYU; he had a great job, why would he want to move away? Roger was surprised that he found himself getting angry, almost betrayed. He knew Collins wasn't leaving for the sake of leaving but still, he needed help right now and Collins was one of the few people willing to give it. Again he felt his craving surface and again he fought against it. There was no reason to be bitter at his friend, he didn't mean any harm, but he couldn't help it. And why hadn't Mark told him that Collins was leaving? Surely he had seen the applications or talked to Collins about it. Why were his friends suddenly keeping things from him?

Roger stepped backwards, away from the table. He needed to calm down, his friends weren't betraying him, there was no need to get worked up. But he couldn't help feeling annoyed. And Mark was leaving too, he had just decided to get up and go to Scarsdale without letting anyone know; all his friends were abandoning him at the time he needed them. Well, he didn't need their help; he could get through this on his own. But even as he told himself that he knew he couldn't. 

Roger switched off the light and headed back into his bedroom, his mind racing. He closed the door and went straight for his mattress. So what if he shouldn't be doing it, it didn't matter, he wanted this, he _needed _this. As he shot up, he remembered what his friends had told him.

_God Roger, I'm sick of watching you hurt yourself!_

You know, I worry about you Roger. 

Well they obviously didn't care enough to stay and help him. Then he remembered April's voice.

_You can't share real love until you love yourself._

For the first time in his life, Roger felt a pang of regret before he lost himself to the drug.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

oh, just so you know, I'm going to Florida for a week on Saturday so this will probably be my last update until I get back. And they might be kinda sparse because the show I'm in opens that weekend but I'll still try really hard to get more chapters out before school starts again.


	10. Happy New Year from Scarsdale

Quick note: I've been getting some questions as to why I don't use more descriptives on the main characters, like why I don't give hair or eye colors. Basically, the reason for this is that in the Broadway show and touring casts there have been many many different people playing the roles, and I know they all looked different. Especially Maureen, some have brown hair, some are blonde, you get the idea? So instead of me deciding what actor to base my characters on (or make up my own descriptions) I decided it better that you the reader could decide for yourself. For those of you who have seen the show, you could be picturing the actor who played that part, for those who haven't, you could be imagining the OBC, I don't know, but I want to let you decide. I will give small descriptions such as "Mimi's Latin skin" or "Collins's long dreadlocks" just because I love them too much to not put them in (especially the dreads, Mark Richard Ford rules!) So basically, you decide what they look like, and I'd love to hear who you imagine as each character. I'll shut up now.

Sorry for the long wait also, I've been so busy it's not even funny. Without further ado, I bring you chapter 10!

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Chapter 10: Happy New Year from Scarsdale

Mark sighed as he reached the porch steps. It had been a while since he had been to see his parents, and he preferred to keep it that way. Still, he took out his camera, aimed it at the door and turned it on.

"The parents' house. Well, actually now it's the _grandparents'_ house." he narrated, knocking on the door.

          He was greeted by a joyous squeal as his mother opened the door and enveloped her son in a hug, camera and all. 

          "Oh Mark! Honey I've missed you so much, why don't you ever call? And look at you, you're all dirty…"

          She dabbed the corner of her apron against her tongue and rubbed it against Mark's face, tutting in that annoying motherly-way. 

          "Have you eaten?"

          "No Mom."

          "Good, come inside, Cindy's here with Jenny and little Nate." Mrs. Cohen said, taking Mark's arm and leading him inside.

          Mark crinkled his nose, "Nate? She named him _Nate_?" 

          "There's nothing wrong with the name Nate, now come inside." 

          Reluctantly, Mark walked into his old home, breathing in the fake, air-freshener smelling drafts. The walls were filled with pictures of his parents, his sister and himself. He cringed as he looked at some pictures of him in grade school, the unruly hair and thick coke bottle glasses. 

A three-year-old girl came bounding through the kitchen, his niece Jenny. She spotted Mark and ran straight at him, jumping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist.

          "Uncle Mark!" she cried as Mark staggered backwards.

          "Hey Jenny," he said after finally getting a breath. He let the young girl down and looked at her. She wore a flowered dress with mismatched shoes, her strawberry blonde hair braided down her back. _She looks so much like her mother_, Mark noted.  

          "Markie?" came a voice from the other room. Mark groaned and looked down at Jenny.

          "Jenny, if your mom comes to look for me, I want you to do me a favor."

          "What?"

          "Tell her I fell off a cliff."

          The child looked at him, confused, as she watched him slip quickly down the hall. She heard a door close just as her mother spoke again.

          "Jenny? Sweetie, where's Uncle Mark? I know I heard him out here." said Cindy, who stepped out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

          "Mommy, Uncle Mark fell off a cliff," the three-year-old responded, looking completely serious.

          "Oh did he?" Cindy responded, smiling, "Mark! Where are you?"

          Mark ran into the closet of the bedroom he was hiding in.

          "Mark Cohen!"

          He buried himself underneath some clothes.

          Cindy opened the door to the bedroom, looking around.

          "Oh Markie…"

          _Man! No where to go…_

          She opened the closet, still searching. Just as she reached the back, two arms reached out and grabbed her. She screamed. Loudly. In Mark's ear.

          "Ow! Cindy!"

          "Mark!" she cried, dragging her younger brother out of the closet, "What was that all about?"

          He grinned, "Happy to see me?"

          "Not anymore."

The siblings stood there laughing at each other, and Mark was finally beginning to feel happy that he was there. He and Cindy had always been pretty good friends, even though she always had been and always would be the favorite of the family. 

          "Cindy! Mark! Dinner's ready," came Mrs. Cohen's voice from the other side of the house. 

          "Come on you idiot," Cindy said, grabbing her brother by the arm and dragging him into the dining room. 

          Throughout dinner Mark remained quiet, preferring to listen rather than add to the conversation. Cindy did most of the talking, telling everyone about her successful lawyer husband who was out of town on business, and how excited she was about her new baby.

          "I really think it's wonderful that Jenny will have a baby brother, isn't it great Jenny?"

          Jenny, who had been holding back snickers watching Mark make funny faces at her, just shrugged her shoulders and snorted into her green beans.

          "Oh Mark honey, someone called for you today," Mrs. Cohen said, silently scolding her son, "An old friend of yours, she wanted to see you tomorrow."

          "Really? Who?"

          "Nanette Himbelfarb."

          Mark paled, _Oh no, not her._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

          Maureen walked down the street, her eyes on the ground. She had just come back from a club, one of the many she frequently visited when Mark was gone. She wasn't sure why she did, she hated feeling as if she were unfaithful to him, because he was always nothing but faithful to her, but she needed the noise and the crowd as a way of hiding from herself. But tonight was different, for once she actually felt a connection with someone, and that scared her. She was afraid of where it could go, because she truly cared for Mark, even if she had trouble showing it.

          "Anyone home?" she called as she unlocked the door to the apartment. On the table was a note, 'Out with April, be back later, Roger'. 

          "Collins?" she asked, then remembered he was out with his boyfriend and Benny was out with Alison. She was alone, again. 

          Sighing she sat down on the couch, her mind racing with the memories of that night, trying to forget them but at the same time enjoying them. She knew times were changing, and her feelings for Mark were beginning to change too. It's not that she didn't love him, she did, but she wasn't sure if she loved him the way she once thought she did. 

          She ran her hands through her hair, trying desperately to sort things out. She'd been feeling this way for a while, as if she wasn't meant to be with someone she cared about, but at the same time she was being held back from another someone she felt for as well. 

          "When did life get to be so confusing?" she asked out loud, as if by voicing the question she would somehow receive an answer. All she heard back was the faint voices of the people on the streets, living their own lives, not caring that one girl who had once been so self-confident was beginning to lose faith in who she was. 

_If this was what love does to you, I'd rather be alone, _she thought, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging herself like a young child trying to hide from a bad dream. She wanted nothing more than to make all the questions, all the problems go away, but she couldn't. She knew in her heart that her and Mark were going to end soon, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. 

"I love him," she whispered helplessly. _But love dies_, she thought, and theirs had. 

Maureen clenched her eyes shut and when she opened them the tears began to flow freely. And she sat there, crying and alone. She was afraid someone would come in and find her this way, Collins, Roger, April, Benny, no one could know. She had made it this far without showing emotion, and she would work through this problem the way she did all others. She wiped her eyes and straightened up, she knew what she needed to do.

"I can't tell him. Not yet." she told herself, and with a final sniff she stood up, full of pride, and went into her room. She had made it through worse problems than this; she could make it, she had to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I know; this chapter wasn't even that good and it took me so long to get up! Next chapter will hopefully feature a cameo by the girl who taught Mark to tango! Review please!!!


	11. It Takes Two to Tango

**A/N:** Sorry about the long wait, school's been really hectic so I haven't had much time to write. But I've got some days off coming up so hopefully I can get some stuff out soon. This chapter, as pointless as it is, is dedicated to Angel of the First Degree, who wrote an amazing story but is so busy that she can't continue it. 

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Chapter 11: It Takes Two to Tango 

Mark took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He had not seen Nanette for a long time, since before he had moved to the city. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a pretty redhead with shining blue eyes. Mark gave a slight gasp; she had matured so much since grade school, where she had been an awkward bookworm, very much like himself.

"Mark!" she squealed, moving forward to hug him and tripping on the welcome mat. She fell into him, knocking them both to the floor. 

_Some things never change_, Mark thought, feeling his hip collide with the hard ground.

"Oops, sorry," she said breathlessly, "I'm just so excited to see you! You look wonderful, are you taller? I could have sworn you were much shorter before. Is that the same camera you had in school? Aren't you ever going to get a new one? How's life in the city? Do you have a good job? Are you still living with that Roger person? You know he was pretty cute, and he was great at the guitar. Does he still play the guitar? I heard he was in a band, is that true? How have you been?" All this was said in about three seconds with no pause for a breath; Nanette always had a tendency to get ahead of herself.

Mark just smiled and helped the girl to her feet. He was far too used to her rambling to bother replying; after all, they'd been friends since kindergarten. Nanette's family used to live next door to the Cohens, so Mark and Nanette had grown up together. They'd never been extremely close, after all she was the rabbi's daughter, but they were friendly.

"I've been fine," Mark said, making sure his camera wasn't broken, "How about you?"

A moment after the words escaped his mouth, Mark wished he could pull them back since Nanette decided to tell him every little thing that happened in the past 3 years. He used the cover of inspecting his camera to keep from looking at her so she wouldn't be able to see he wasn't paying attention. Still, she may be slightly ditzy, but she wasn't stupid.

"Mark Cohen! I haven't seen you in a long time, the least you could do is look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Mark gave a slight sigh, "Sorry."

"That's okay. Hey, I have a surprise for you." Nanette said, changing subjects abruptly.

"What?"

"Come on," she checked her watch then grabbed his arm and led him down the driveway, "We'd better hurry or we'll miss it."

"Nanette where are we going?" Mark asked, slightly in shock.

"You'll see, just keep your camera with you."

"Where are you taking me?"

"I told you, it's a surprise. But I think you'll like it."

The two walked down the streets together, Nanette constantly checking her watch and looking at the sky. Mark just stared at her in confusion; he was used to her doing crazy things like this but she seemed really excited about this one. 

"Okay we need to hurry," she stated after about 10 minutes of walking. She grabbed Mark's hand and hurried down the street; Mark had no choice but to follow her. She led him off the sidewalk and into a small park that they had played in when they were children.

"Nanette?" he asked once again, "Will you please tell me what's going on?"

"Okay, remember when we were kids and I was playing on the jungle gym and that kid hit the garbage can with a stick and a bunch of bees flew out and then one got stuck in my shorts and kept stinging me and I got stuck on the bars?"

"Of course I remember," Mark replied quietly.

"Well you came and got me down. And then when I was afraid to go on the jungle gym again, you offered to guard the garbage can so no one could hit it. I mean, I know it sounds stupid, but that really meant a lot to me, you were always there for me, no matter how annoying I was."

"Well, you were my friend. I could talk to you, and you didn't make fun of me for liking cameras and everything like most people did. You were my best friend."

"And then you met Roger."

_And I haven't exactly been a best friend to him_, Mark thought bitterly. He had been afraid when he went to help Nanette off the jungle gym, but that didn't matter, that was just what friends do; help each other when they need it. So why wasn't he helping Roger through his time of need? Sure his problem was bigger than a few bees and a jungle gym, but when a friend needs you, you're supposed to be there for them. 

"Anyway," Nanette said, breaking into his thoughts, "This wasn't the only reason I brought you here. Come here." 

She led him up a hill to the top of the park where the playground was, and as they walked over the top they were greeted by a bright orange-red sunset.

"Oh wow, this is amazing," Mark said breathlessly, instinctively reaching for his camera.

As he filmed, he noticed that a stream of sunlight gleamed through the jungle gym. He trained his camera on it.

"Nanette go stand by the jungle gym," he said without taking his eyes off his camera.

"Why?" she asked.

"Just do it."

Sighing, she walked over and stood in front of the sunbeam. Quietly, Mark began to narrate.

"Enter Nanette Himbelfarb, the rabbi's daughter and a wonderful person. I owe so much to her, she gave me a lesson in what it's like to be a true friend, even though she doesn't know it."

He switched off the camera and went over to sit on the jungle gym. 

"Hey Mark, how long are you here for?"

"I'll probably go back home tomorrow afternoon or so, why?"

"Well tonight there's this dance contest at the Jewish community center and-"

"Oh no Nanette, I am not dancing."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know how!"

"Well I could _teach _you!" she looked at him with wide eyes, the eyes Mark loved to refer to as the 'puppy dog eyes'.

"Oh man, why do you do this to me?"

She smiled mischievously.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Okay maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Nanette admitted three hours later. She and Mark had been practicing for an hour and a half and all they had to show for it was several bruises. 

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm not exactly good at the Tango!" Mark said angrily.

 "I noticed," Nanette said, rubbing her feet, which were constantly being stepped on.

Mark took a swig from his bottle of water.

"Why the tango? Why can't we do swing dancing or something?" he asked.

"Because there is no way I'm letting you throw me in the air."

"Hey you're not exactly graceful yourself." Mark replied, remembering their last attempt in which she had tripped over his foot and fell on top of him, her knee hitting him in a very sensitive area.

"Okay so we both suck. But we could still win."

Mark gave a little snort.

"Well, we could at least not embarrass ourselves."

"I have a better way of accomplishing that. We don't dance."

"Oh, but Mark I already signed us up, we have to dance. Come on, let's try it again."

Sighing, Mark resigned himself to another hour or so of pain as they kept practicing. They were getting better, but it was a slow and difficult process.

"Okay, 1, 2 and Ow! No don't stop keep going, 4 and 1, 2, 3" 

"This is ridiculous, we're not getting anywhere."

"Shh, I'm concentrating."

By the time the actual dance rolled around, both were exhausted. They had taken a quick break to eat and get changed but soon Mark found himself back at the dreaded community center.

"Mark!" Nanette called from across the room. She was wearing a dark purple dress that fit snug on her body but flared out at the hips, which accentuated her leg movements. 

"You look nice," he said as he walked up.

"Thanks. Are you nervous?"

"Let me think, I'm in a dance contest in front of all these people I grew up with about to do the tango which I've never even heard of until today and oh might I mention that it was extremely hard to go to the bathroom!"

Nanette put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughs, "Oh I'm sorry Mark. But this is going to be fun, you'll see."

"Sure."

As if on some incredible cue, the announcement, "Next up are Mark Cohen and Nanette Himbelfarb who will be doing the tango," came booming through the speakers.

Mark smoothed out his shirt and followed Nanette into the center of the room. His stomach gave a lurch; he had just remembered how much he hated standing in front of crowds. Nanette smiled and squeezed his hand for support as the music began. They started to dance, Nanette moving backwards and Mark leading, _This isn't so hard, _Mark thought as he concentrated on Nanette's shoulder. He was too nervous to look at the crowd and he couldn't look at her face because he was afraid she'd see him panic. They changed directions swiftly and in time with the music.

_Score!_ Mark applauded himself as he heard the spectators start to whisper. Gaining confidence, he dipped Nanette, who threw her head back dramatically, causing her hair to fly. There was a collective 'oooh' from the crowd.

_Sure, milk it for all it's worth. You and Maureen should get together sometime._

They continued to dance and before he knew what was happening, the music was fading and the crowd began to applaud. Nanette beamed at him as they took a small bow and hurried off to the side. Once they had reached the refreshment table she threw her arms around him and let out a squeal of happiness.

"I can't believe it! We did it, and no one got hurt or anything. Mark that was so great!"

He smiled awkwardly and waited for her to let go and let him breathe.

"Yeah, we did good," he said after finally feeling his Adam's apple return to the front of his throat.

"You know Mark, this really meant a lot to me. Thanks for sticking through it."

He smiled and hugged her, "No problem."

That night when he got back to his parents' house he called Roger. No one answered so he left a quick message.

"Hey Rog? You there? Pick up, it's Mark. Okay fine, just wanted to let you know I'm on my way home tomorrow morning. And um, just wanted to tell you, I've been doing some thinking and… well I'll tell you when I get back. Bye."

          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yes, pointless I know but I needed something pointless plus my mom dragged me to this place where she takes ballroom dancing lessons and I learned to tango so I was very excited. Oh and by the way, that whole bees and the jungle gym incident, that really happened to me. It is not cool being trapped on a jungle gym with a bee stuck in your shorts, and no one actually came to get me down, I just kinda fell on my head. Oh well, it made for a nice plot point so who knew? Review please!


	12. Follow the Man

**A/N: **I have no idea where this chapter came from. I had something completely different planned out but as I was writing this popped out. Hope you like it!

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Chapter 12: Follow the Man

Three days later things were back to normal in the loft, or as normal as life could be when you lived in a place with no food, no heat, and five crazy bohemians. 

"Mark have you seen my underwear?" Collins called from his bedroom, where he was packing to leave for MIT.

"Last time I wore it I put it back!" the filmmaker called back from the living room.

Collins replied by throwing a schoolbook at him from the doorway; it hit him in the stomach, causing him to fall off the couch.

"I did the laundry Collins, it's on my bed," Maureen said, coming out of her room and trying to put her mascara on while walking. Collins retreated into the next room while Maureen pounded on the bathroom door.

"Benny if you don't get out of there in two seconds I'm breaking the door down!"

"I think he broke my glasses," came Mark's voice from the floor.

"Benny!" Maureen yelled, banging on the door with her fists.

The door opened while Maureen was still attacking it, and her fist collided with Benny's head. 

"Ow!"

"Well you could have told me you were opening it," Maureen said, pushing past him and rushing to the mirror where she finished putting on her mascara.

" If you leave a mark I swear…"

Maureen responded by slamming the door.

"How do you deal with her?" Benny asked Mark, who was still examining his glasses.

"Knowledge. At times like these you smile, nod and go 'yes dear, of course dear, whatever you say.' and if she says she wants to kill you you respond with 'yes dear, if that will make you happy.' and if she attacks you with a spork and tries to castrate you you run as fast as humanly possible because she will do it."

Benny looked nervously at the bathroom door.

"Found it," Collins said triumphantly, coming out of Mark and Maureen's room with an armful of clothes.

"I can't believe you're actually leaving tomorrow," Benny said as Collins walked past him.

"Yeah I know. I'm gonna miss you guys." 

"So stay," Mark said, finally getting up from the floor, "Don't go to MIT, stay here. You have a good job here, a good life."

"Yeah, but I'm not happy. I mean don't get me wrong, I love you guys and all but, I just don't feel complete."

"So what makes you think going to MIT and leaving us all behind will make you feel complete?" Benny asked. 

"I don't know," Collins said after a moment. He continued to fold clothes and put them neatly in his suitcase as he spoke, "I guess… I just hope there's more to life. More than this."

"What more do you want? You have friends, a job, a home."

"But I'm not happy!" Collins said, a bit louder than he had meant to, "I guess it doesn't matter, maybe I don't deserve to be happy."

"Of course you deserve to be happy, everyone deserves to be happy," came a voice from the doorway. All three men turned to see a tired and pale Roger leaning against the doorframe. He had gotten worse, now he couldn't go a day without getting a fix, but no one was making an argument anymore.

Collins smiled and patted the corner of his bed, indicating that Roger should come join them.

"I mean it, if anyone deserves to be happy it's you," Roger continued, "you've done so much for all of us."

"What do I do? I do what any friend would do, I listen, I give advice, so what?"

"Oh please! Collins stop being so hard on yourself," Mark said, putting a shirt in the suitcase.

"You guys just don't understand. I need something," Collins said quietly.

"What?" Benny asked impatiently, "What is so important that you have to leave everything you know behind?"

"I just don't feel complete. I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone," Roger said, "You've got us."

          "It's not the same," he said, not taking his eyes off of the clothes he was folding, "I'm dying. I know it may not seem like it but I am. I just don't want to die alone. You all have someone to live for, and I guess I just want that too."

          Everyone was silent for a while, no one really knew how to respond to that. Everyone kind of took Collins for granted, he was always the steady one who never felt pain but was always there to listen to another's pain. 

          "Listen I know what you mean," Mark said tentatively.

          "No you don't!" Collins snapped, causing the others to exchange nervous glances, "You don't understand because you have someone Mark. You have Maureen, and Roger you have April, and Benny you have Alison. Don't you understand? I want that too! I want to be able to come home and be greeted by someone who I know loves me unconditionally, someone who will stand by me until the world comes to an end."

          With that he shoved some more clothes into his suitcase and let out an angry breath. It had become obvious that Collins really didn't want to talk about it anymore, so the three slowly shuffled out and left him alone to finish packing. They nearly collided into Maureen who had been listening through the door.   
          "What's going on?" she asked after pushing Benny into the opposite wall for running into her. 

          "Just leave Collins alone for a little bit okay?" Mark said gently, glancing at the closed door.

          "But why-"

          "Trust me," and tentatively, Mark put his arm around his girlfriend, feeling slightly guilty as he did so. The couple walked slowly into the living room, leaving Roger and Benny alone outside Collins's room.

          "What was that about?" Roger asked.

          "You heard him. He just needs time I guess, give him some space, he'll come around."

          With that, Benny retreated into his room to finish getting ready for work. Roger walked into the living room where Mark and Maureen were sitting together on the couch and grabbed his coat.

          "Where are you going?" Maureen asked, taking her head off Mark's shoulder.

          "Out for a walk, I might stop by April's." 

          Mark nodded, giving a short smile to his friend. Putting on his jacket, Roger stepped out the door.

          "I'm worried about Collins," Maureen said quietly, snuggling closer to Mark.

          "Yeah, I think he'll be alright, he's just feeling lonely," Mark stared at the door, he knew Roger's 'walk' was to get more smack, yet he was doing nothing.

          "You okay?" Maureen asked.

          "What? Yeah I'm fine, just thinking."

          "About what?"

          "Roger."

          "Ok, Mark, honey, for future reference, when your girlfriend asks you what you're thinking about, it is not a good idea to respond with the name of your best male friend."

          "Well would you rather I said Jennifer?"  
          Maureen eyed him suspiciously, "Who's Jennifer?"  
          "I dunno, but her name's not Roger."

          Maureen smacked him hard in the chest, "You're terrible!"

          Mark kissed her gently before getting up and reaching for his own coat. 

          "Now where are you going?"

          "I'm sorry Mo, but I can't sit here and do nothing. He's my friend, I'm not gonna let him hurt himself like this."

          Maureen smiled proudly as Mark walked out the door. "That's my boy," she whispered. 

          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

          "How much this time?"

          "Roger!"

          "Same as always, I like you."

          "Roger!"

          "Fine, here."

          "Roger!"

          "Hang on, what?"

          Mark ran up to his friend, panting. 

          "Mark, what are you doing here?"

          "You can't- do- this," Mark forced out.

          "I can do whatever I want. You're wasting your time. I thought you had stopped bothering me about this." Roger said forcefully, trying to hand the money to the dealer. Mark grabbed his arm.

          "Roger please. Just try and control yourself, please," Mark had this pathetic pleading look in his eyes that caused Roger to both feel bad and want to crack up laughing. 

          "Who's this?" the dealer asked, becoming impatient.

          Roger looked from Mark to the smack in his hand. Slowly he handed the money to the dealer and put the smack in his pocket. Mark shook his head and stared at the ground.

          "Come back anytime, you know where I'll be"

          "Yeah thanks," Roger said, grabbing Mark's arm and leading him away.

          "What the hell are you doing?" Roger asked once they were a safe distance away.

          "I don't know," Mark muttered, still staring at the pavement, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

          "Yeah well it's not. Mark why can't you leave me alone, let me live my own life?"

          "Because I can't! I don't know why, it's just… I know this sounds pathetic, but I don't want to see you get hurt."

          "Yeah I know, we've been through this remember?"

          "Roger-"

          "Just drop it okay! I don't care, I really don't! This is what I want Mark, I'm happy, so just leave it alone."

          Roger stormed off down the street, leaving Mark standing alone on the street corner. He pulled his coat closer to his body, feeling the cold air sting his cheeks.

          _Maybe I should just go home, _he thought bitterly. It was obvious Roger wasn't going to listen, if anything Mark's repeated attempts to make him stop were fueling him. 

          "Well well well," came a voice from behind him. Mark wheeled around to see the face of the dealer who had sold the drugs to Roger a little while ago.

          "If it isn't the little hero? How you doing hero?" he asked icily.

          "Leave me alone," Mark said.

          "There's no need to be rude. How bout I fix whatever's bothering you?" he held out a bag of white powder, one identical to what Roger had just bought. Mark took a step backward.

          "There's nothing to be afraid of. Come on hero, how 'bout it?"

          Mark shook his head.

          "No? Are you sure? Just ask your friend, he loves it, come on."

          "No. Leave me alone, I'm fine."

          Mark was spared more problems when another man came running up to make a purchase. Mark slipped away quickly and hurried down the street, shaking. 

          "Hey sweetie, where are you going in such a hurry?"

          Mark jumped and looked around to see a pretty drag queen watching him from on top of a wall, where he had a pickle tub balanced between his legs like a drum.  Mark didn't respond.

          "Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you like that." 

          "Yeah I'm fine."

          "You look terrible."

          "Thanks"

          "I'm sorry!" the drag queen said gently, moving the pickle tub to one side and moving towards Mark, "I didn't mean it like that. You just look like something's bothering you."

          Mark was silent.

          "I'm Angel," he said, extending a hand.

          "Mark," he replied, "Look thanks for being concerned but I don't feel like talking."

          Angel smiled, "Hey I know, the last thing I'd want to do is discuss my problems with some random stranger. So why don't you tell one of your friends?"

          "Because my problems all have to do with them."

          Angel nodded, "Ah. Well I'd be happy to offer you some advice if you want."

          "No thanks. I'll be fine, I'm just a little shaken."

          "I saw you talking to that guy, the dealer."

          "You know him?"

          "I date him."

          Mark's eyes widened, "Really?"

          "Yeah. He doesn't know that I know, but I've been watching him whenever I get the chance, trying to see whose lives he's destroying besides his own."

          "Do you use-"

          "No!" Angel said quickly, shaking his head, "I'd never do that. And I'm glad to see you don't either. You've got a strong will."

          "Yeah, one stronger than Roger's at least," Mark said under his breath.

          "What?"

          "Nothing. It's just my friend who uses. I tried to get him to stop and he wouldn't and then that guy decided to follow me and see if he could gain a new customer."

          "I'm sorry. I wish I could help you, I really do."

          "I know, it's okay. I'll be fine."

          "You sure?"

          "Yeah, thanks."

          "No problem."

          Mark began to walk away when Angel ran after him.

          "Mark!"

          "Yeah?" he said, turning around.

          "If you ever need advice, come find me."

          "Thanks. Angel?"

          "Yeah?"

          "You seem like a strong person. So why not tell your boyfriend what's going on? It'll probably fix a lot of problems."

            Angel smiled, "I would, but I don't know if he's ready yet. But I'll keep it in mind. Thanks."

          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Free sporks to anyone who got the reference to Today for You: Proof Positive!


	13. Let he among us without sin

Sorry for the long wait you guys but hopefully it's worth it. I got to see Rent again for my birthday and between Sebastian being super strong and Colin being the world's best Mark understudy I must say I was struck with inspiration. Enjoy!

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Chapter 13: Let he among us without sin…

"I can't believe you're really leaving," Maureen said tearfully, hugging Collins yet again. 

          The gang was gathered at the train station, waiting for Collins's train to arrive to take him to MIT. Actually, it was the gang minus Roger, who had just crashed from a high and was too grouchy to come. 

          Collins sighed as he shifted his book bag from one shoulder to the other, "I'm gonna miss you guys, I really am. I wish I didn't have to go. But hey, we'll keep it touch right? I mean, I'll call and write letters and stuff."

          "Yeah, of course," Mark said, turning on his camera.

          "And now our good friend Tom Collins has decided to leave his predictable life and pursue an adventure at MIT," he narrated.

          "You are too good at that," Benny murmured from behind him.

          "Yeah I know," Mark replied, "But that's what you get when you spend every free moment writing screenplays."

          Collins waved at the camera, "Yes, I'm leaving New York, but not for good. I'll be back," he finished with a terminator impression. 

          Mark switched off the camera and slung the strap over his neck. 

          "I really do need to go, my train's leaving soon."

          "Please write, or call, I don't care just keep in touch," Maureen said, sniffing back tears as she hugged Collins one more time. 

          "Yeah, don't disappear off the face of the Earth," Benny added.

          Mark hugged his friend, "Don't stay too long."

          "I won't. And Mark?"

          "Yeah?"

          "Don't give up on Roger. I know there are times when you just want to get rid of him once and for all, but have faith. He'll come around." Collins made sure to say all this quietly so that Maureen and Benny couldn't overhear.  

"Thanks," Mark whispered, pulling out of the hug and stepping back, "I hope you find what you're looking for," he said under his breath, knowing Collins wouldn't hear him.

Collins picked up his suitcase and walked off towards his train, he stopped and waved just as he was pulling out of sight. The three waved back as he turned and walked out of view.

          "Well I guess we'd better head home," Benny said after a few moments had passed.

          "Yeah. Probably better not to leave Roger home by himself, he might fall out a window," Maureen said. She didn't sound concerned, if anything she was sounded slightly hopeful. 

          "Maureen," Mark chided gently, wrapping his arms around her waist.

          "Oh fine," she pouted.

          "Look, I'm gonna go. I promised Alison I'd take her to dinner tonight and I want to get her some sort of gift." Benny said, checking his watch.

          "Well aren't you sweet?" Maureen said, "I wish Mark would buy me little gifts every now and then."

          "You want a gift? Ok, I'll take you to the dollar store and you can have anything you want."

          Maureen pulled away from him, sticking her tongue out. 

          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

          Mark walked into the apartment, Maureen right behind him.

          "Roger? We're back!" he called. There was no answer.

          "Maybe he's sleeping?" Maureen suggested, putting her coat down and going towards his room. Mark looked around the room; already it felt empty. There was just a feeling that somehow the place seemed vacant now that one person was gone. 

          Mark fingered the camera around his neck, thinking about his latest story when he heard a shriek from the back of the apartment.

          "Mark!" came Maureen's frantic voice. He quickly ran into his room where he nearly collided with Maureen, who grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

          "What? What's wrong?" Mark asked, looking around. Nothing seemed to be out of place, everything was right where it was when they left, yet Maureen was obviously worried about something.

          She pointed to a drawer of their dresser, "Your money."

          "What about it?"

          "It's gone."

          Disbelieving, Mark yanked open the drawer and pulled the clothes aside; she was right, the money he had saved in there, close to two hundred dollars, was gone. He stared blankly at the empty spot; he had been saving that money to buy a new camera, not to mention to pay the rent. 

"Who could have done this?" he asked out loud.

"Well I don't know how many people you told Mark, but Roger wasn't with us today and he's not here now and you said before he knew about it." Maureen said.

"Are you saying you think Roger would take it?" Mark asked, tearing his eyes away from the empty drawer.

"I'm saying it's possible. He's been dying for fixes lately and he doesn't have money. He didn't go with us to say goodbye to Collins so he had more than enough time to take and leave-"

"Roger would never steal from me," Mark said angrily, "I'm his best friend. I trust him."

"Who else could have taken it?" Maureen asked logically.

"I don't know. But I know it's not Roger, he wouldn't do that."

"Mark, baby," Maureen said gently, putting her arms around him, but Mark pulled away.

"No! I can't believe you, you accuse my best friend of stealing from me and then act like there's nothing wrong! What's wrong with you?" he snapped.

"What's wrong with me?" Maureen repeated indignantly, "I'm just pointing out a very logical explanation to this. Unless you run through the streets screaming 'I have two hundred dollars hidden in my dresser' I don't think many people knew where it was! Roger happened to be one of those people and we know he's not here right now."

Mark turned on his heel and made to walk out but Maureen grabbed his arm.

"Mark please, don't walk out on me. I'm just trying to help."

"How is telling me that my best friend is a thief helping?" he asked viciously, wrenching his arm out of her grip. 

Maureen's eyes glistened, but no tears fell, "Mark…"

He stormed from the room out into the living room, where he paced around the couch. Maureen didn't come out of her room, leaving Mark free to be alone. Still angry with her, he seized his camera and his coat and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"April? Open the door, it's Roger." Roger knocked harder on the door to April's apartment, "April!"

He could hear the scuffle of a person inside so he knew she was home. He knocked louder.

Eventually she opened the door smiling, "Have some patience next time will ya?"

Roger put his arm around her as he walked in, his hand lingering on her waist.

"So what brings you here?" she asked, leaning into him.

"I missed you," he said, kissing her.

"Well aren't you sweet," she replied. 

Their gentle kissing soon turned into heavy groping as they fell back on the couch.

"Ouch," April said suddenly, reaching for something in between the couch cushions.

"What is it?" Roger asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly, putting her arm back around him, but he reached around her and pulled out an old needle.

"What's this?" he asked, pulling away from her.

"Nothing," she said, snatching it from him, "I didn't even know that was there."

She quickly got up and threw it into the trashcan, her eyes carefully avoiding her boyfriend's.

"April what was that?" Roger insisted.

"Will you stop! I don't know, you know how it is with things hidden in your couch, most of the time you don't know what's there anyway."

"Please, April this is me you're talking to. Me, Mr. "You're going to kill yourself if you don't change your ways". I know what a needle looks like."

April shifted her weight from one foot to the other, staring at the ground. Roger got up from the couch and approached her.

"Tell me the truth," he said, taking her hands in his. She still refused to look at him, and settled for talking to his kneecaps.

"Fine, yes I use. It's only been for a little while though, it's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Roger said, his voice rising,  "April it's-"

"Oh who are you to preach to me about using?" April snapped, "You get high every freakin day and I don't see you having a problem with it!"

"That's different, I've-"

"Oh is it different because you've been doing it longer? Does that make it better?"

"That's not what I'm saying, listen to me damn it!"

"Go ahead, I'm all ears," April said, stepping back and crossing her arms.

"Look, I'm not saying what I do is good, cause it's not, and I'll be the first to admit that. But I can't help it! You can! Stop now, before you get addicted, don't become like me, I don't think I could take it," his voice softened as he finished, his eyes pleading. April sighed.

"Look, I'm fine really. It's only a once and a while thing. There's not going to be a problem, I promise."

Roger couldn't help but smile; she was so strong. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered gently in his ear.

"You want to shoot up now? I really could use some."

He thought for a moment, the only time he'd ever really contemplated getting high. He didn't want April to do it, but denying her would mean denying himself, and he was dying for a fix. Slowly he nodded and April beamed. She pulled him into the bedroom and pulled out a clean needle.

"I've only got one," she said, "you don't mind sharing?"

Roger grinned, "After what we do? Please!"

Roger felt the needle pierce his skin, guided by April's soft touch.

_Everything's going right for once_, he thought as he returned the favor by inserting the needle into April's arm. What happened next Roger couldn't remember, but that was normally preferred for him anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Review please!


	14. I think we've met

Sorry about the long wait, I've been sick so I didn't get much time to write. The next chapter should be up soon, since I already know what I'm doing but where I ended this chapter seemed like a good place to end it. Happy Early Turkey Day!

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       Chapter 14: I think we've met

Mark walked down the street, his coat held tightly around his thin body. The last time he had done this he almost found himself stuck in a drug deal but that didn't matter, he just couldn't stand arguing with people he cared so much about. He decided to walk around the block a few times before going back home, maybe by then the tension will have cooled. Just as he passed the same tree for the third time he noticed someone walking into his building. Thinking it could be Roger he ran to catch up with him. Mark hurried into the building and started up the stairs. He took them two at a time, panting as he went. Though he was thin, he had never been in very good shape. Just as he reached the landing before his own he caught a quick glimpse of a person before he felt an extreme burning in his eyes. He clapped his hands over his glasses, feeling the stinging liquid seep further into his eyes. He heard a voice come from somewhere.

"Hurts doesn't it?" it asked. Mark didn't know who it was, but it didn't sound like Roger.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, starting to open his eyes and feeling them burn even more.

"Pepper spray," the voice replied, and this time Mark figured it was a girl. He could hear the pride in her voice.

"What did you do that for?" Mark asked, slowly opening his eyes again, he hadn't even realized he had sunk to his knees. He looked up at the young woman, who looked 17 or so. She had dark Latin skin and curly brown hair and was wearing tight leather clothing which reminded Mark of the girls he'd seem perform at the club he'd gone to a few months ago. He eyed the pepper spray in her hand, which was still pointed at him.

"Why are you following me?" she asked sharply.

"Following you?" he repeated incredulously, "I don't even know who you are!" he could feel his eyes beginning to tear.

"I was walking into my building and I saw you running after me and I heard you following me up the stairs!"

"That was you?"

"Yeah!" she said, looking at him like he was crazy.

"I live here," he explained, slowly getting to his feet. She held the can ready in her hand but didn't raise it as he moved.

"You live here?" she repeated.

"Yeah.  I thought you were my roommate, that's why I followed you. I didn't expect you to attack me!" 

She smiled in an embarrassed way, "I'm sorry. I'm just so used to perverted guys stalking me that I figured you were one of them."

"Well dressed like that I don't blame them," Mark said without thinking. He blushed crimson and stared at the ground. He had meant it to be a compliment but he had just realized how sick it sounded. He was surprised to hear her laughing.

"You're turning colors," she said, touching his cheek, which was getting redder by the second. Mark looked at her apologetically.

"I didn't mean to say it like that, you're really pretty, I mean I don't blame them for- wait that's not what I meant. What I'm trying to say is you look great in those clothes so, oh man I just keep digging myself deeper into the don't I?" he smiled sheepishly.  
       She giggled, "Don't worry about it, I know what you were trying to say." 

She looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide who he really was. Feeling awkward, Mark took off his glasses and rubbed them on his sweater, they were messed up from the pepper spray.

"You're cute," she said finally, making him jerk his eyes upward at her, "Oh I'm not coming on to you or anything," she added quickly, "I just think you're cute. You look familiar, have I seen you before?"

"I don't think so," Mark replied, putting his glasses back on, "You might have seen me upstairs though, I do live here."

"Maybe. You don't seem the type to go to the Cat Scratch Club," she said, more to herself than to him. Mark gave a start.

"I've been there!" he said quickly, then blushed again.

"Really?" she said, surprised, "Wow, you don't seem the type to go there. You look like you'd be better than something like that."

"I only went once," he admitted, still trying to figure out what she had just said, "I went with my roommates. They're more into that stuff than me."

The girl nodded, "Yeah. Well, not everyone performs like I do. Actually we get some good talent every so often. We have to, or else the place would be considered a strip club and apparently the manager doesn't want that. But he'll hire all these dancers who don't know how to do anything but take their clothes off. Go figure."

Mark stayed silent; he wasn't really sure how to respond to that.

"Anyway, we do get some good performers. Like my friend Angel, he could sing and dance and play drums all at the same time. He's really talented."

"Did you say Angel?" Mark repeated, remembering the drag queen he had met about a week ago.

"Yeah, do you know him?"

Mark shook his head, smiling, "Well I met someone named Angel once, but this _is_ New York City, there's so many people what are the odds of us knowing the same one?"

"Yeah, but how many Angels do you know?"

"Good point."

"You might know him if you've been to the club. He doesn't perform every night, mostly when someone's sick or something but he's always there to watch me," she continued, "I know he doesn't like what I do, but he doesn't say anything. He lets me bug myself because I know what he would say if he ever were to confront me about it."

"Yeah I have a friend like that," Mark said quietly.

"He'd tell me I deserve better, that I have talent and I shouldn't be wasting it in a place like that. He's such an optimist, you know, one of those people who will always say the glass is half full. He believes in me. And that means a lot, because no one else does," she finished quietly.

Mark nodded, wishing he had his camera, the better to remember this girl.

"Oh God! I didn't even introduce myself!" she said suddenly, "I'm Mimi Marquez."

"Mark Cohen."

"Well, I'd better go, I have to get ready for work," Mimi said, gesturing to her outfit.

"Yeah, I have some stuff to do too. It was nice to meet you though."

"Yeah it was. You should come by the club sometime, maybe see if my Angel is your Angel."

"Sure."

"I'm sorry about the pepper spray."

"It's okay, I'll survive."

"You're a good guy Mark Cohen." 

With that, she disappeared into her apartment. Mark smiled as the door closed; she really was very charming. He climbed the last flight of stairs and opened the door, his good mood being killed instantly as he was met by two screaming voices.

"What makes you think I took it?"

"Because no one else could have!"

"What does Mark think?"

"He trusts you, but I know better!"

"There's a reason he trusts me you know! At least I don't cheat on him once a week!"

"That's not true! Don't try to turn this on me!"

Mark stared in shock, watching his girlfriend and his best friend scream at each other. 

"Why? Because you know it's true? Admit it Maureen, you can't call a day a success unless you've screwed some random guy!"

"And you can't be happy unless you're high off your ass! Not to mention getting your girlfriend into it too!"

"Whore!"

"Junkie!"

"STOP!" Mark wasn't even aware that he had spoken. Something had burst inside of him and he had let it out. Maureen and Roger turned to face him, both of them looking extremely awkward. Mark could feel himself shaking, yet he felt oddly detached from his body. Suddenly he found himself walking into the apartment, yet he didn't recall telling his body to move. The two followed him with their eyes, afraid to say anything. Mark sunk into a chair, his eyes focusing on anything but the pair in front of him. 

"Mark?" Maureen said gently, taking a tentative step forward. He didn't acknowledge her.

"Mark? Sweetie?" she tried again. This time he turned his eyes to her, but he couldn't find it in him to speak.

"How much did you hear?" she asked, kneeling down in front of him.

"Enough," he forced out.

"Baby I'm sorry. I was only trying to help, I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand really."

"Yeah, she's right," Roger said quietly, "We both kinda blew up."

Mark knew they were doing this for his sake, admitting they were wrong. He also knew neither one believed it. He had a strange suspicion that if he were to walk out that door they would continue to fight as if nothing had happened. He also became suspicious of them; because he knew that when you were angry, the truth often came out, whether you wanted it to or not. The two people closest to him in the world had just admitted to him that neither could be trusted.

He looked at Roger, "What happened?"

"I came home and Maureen told me about the stolen money-"

"Didn't you already know it was gone?" Mark interrupted.

"What?" Roger asked.

"I've been thinking about it," Mark said, slowly getting to his feet, "Maureen may be right. No one else knew that money was there, and I doubt she'd go this far if she didn't believe it was you with all her heart. Although, she does like to build up drama so…" he said scathingly, looking at Maureen, who lowered her eyes. He turned to her.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" she repeated.

"Why would Roger say those things about you cheating on me? I doubt he just made it up off the top of his head."

"Mark you know me, I would never-"

"That's the problem Maureen, I do know you. And I know your flirtatious habits. I have no trouble believing you'd cheat on me."

Maureen looked as though she'd been slapped. Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away from him quickly.

"Mark," Roger started, but Mark had had enough.

"I can't believe you two! Trying to "help" me by making me watch the two people I love more than anything scream at each other! Congratulations Maureen, you've convinced me that my best friend steals from me! And Roger, you deserve a prize too, thanks to you I now know that my girlfriend sleeps around more often than she sleeps with me! Sure is nice to have friends like you!"

With that he turned on his heel and went to storm out but he felt something grab him arm.

"Mark wait!"

"Leave me alone Roger."

"No!" he turned Mark around to face him, "You let me go too many times and I've messed up too much to let you go now."

"I let you go, that's right. Now return the favor!" Mark said, wrenching out of his friend's grip. Roger let go, watching Mark walk out the door. He turned to Maureen, ready to insult her, but found he couldn't. Instead, he grabbed his leather jacket and followed Mark out the door.


	15. The Power of Fortune Cookies

Sorry about the long wait, but this is a long chapter so hopefully that will make up for it. Enjoy!

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Chapter 15: The Power of Fortune Cookies

"Mark!" Roger called, running down the street, "This is so stupid. Mark!"

As he turned the corner he finally spotted him, he was talking hurriedly into a payphone. 

"Mark you had me worried sick and here you are talking on a phone! What is the matter with you, I nearly had a heart attack-"

"Hush Mommy, I'm on the phone," Mark said quickly, turning around.

          "Oh it was Roger," he said into the receiver, "No I didn't think he'd come after me either… Yeah ok, I believe you… Sure, I'll call tonight. I have to go anyway, the operator is pestering me to put in more money… Yeah, talk to you later. Bye."

          He hung up and took a deep breath before turning around to face his friend.

          "Who was that?" Roger asked carefully.

          "Collins. I wanted to make sure he got in okay."

          Roger nodded but the disbelief must have shown on his face because Mark put his hands on his hips.

          "I did!" he repeated.

          "I believe you!"

          "No you don't."

          "I don't, or you don't?" Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

          Mark paused, then despite himself, cracked a smile, "You hang around him way too much."

          Roger grinned, "With the amount of talks he's had with me it's beginning to rub off."

          Mark looked as if he wanted to smile, but couldn't.

          "Look I'm sorry okay? What more do you want me to do?" Roger asked, throwing his arms in the air.

          Mark looked at the ground.

          "Aren't friends supposed to forgive each other?" Roger said, watching him carefully.

          Mark didn't respond.

          "Look, Mark, I really am sorry. You know me, I can't help it. It's like I'm a different person or something. It's just… that craving, it's so strong, and I'd give _anything _to make it go away. I- I don't know how to explain it. But I didn't want to Mark, I really didn't." Roger said, his hands dangling helplessly at his sides.

          Mark's eyes slowly traveled up to his friend's face, he could see the pain the musician was trying to hide.

          "Then why did you?" he asked. It wasn't a sharp or angry question; instead it was quiet, with the air of someone who was just looking for answers.

          Roger looked up at the sky, trying to find an answer, "I don't know," he said finally, "I really don't! I wish I did. And I wish I could take it back. I wish that more than anything."

          Mark stared at him silently for a long time. Finally he gave a small smile, "You can. Any money you make, from gigs and stuff, goes to me."

          "Oooh, you're harsh," Roger said, starting to smile himself.

          "Oh that's nothing, I'd make you my slave and make you clean the apartment and stuff but I know you wouldn't so that doesn't do me any good."

          Roger breathed a fake sigh of relief, "Oh you are merciful."

          "And don't forget it either!" Mark said, smacking Roger on the forehead. 

          "So… we're ok?" Roger asked tentatively.

          Mark nodded slowly, "Yeah, we're ok. It takes more than money to ruin this friendship."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Guys I'm home!" Roger called, walking inside the loft a few hours later, "I brought dinner!"

"Did I just hear right? Roger brought dinner? Mark hand me a pen I have to write this on my calendar," Maureen said, clutching her heart in shock.

"You are so incredibly funny sometimes Mo, I just can't stand it, my lungs are going to burst," Roger said, rolling his eyes and putting the bag down on the table.

"Is Roger home?" April called, hurrying into the living room.

Roger greeted her with a kiss.

"So what are we having?" Benny asked, jumping over a chair and sitting on it.

"Chinese," Roger replied.

"Where did you get the money for Chinese?" Mark asked, then laughed, "Never mind. Looks like _I _paid for dinner tonight."

"I wanted to make it up to you," Roger said.

"With my money!"

"Well I was hoping you'd overlook that."

Maureen helped Roger set out the food while Mark grabbed some paper plates and cups. 

"Ok, who got the chicken with garlic sauce?" Maureen asked, reading the carton in her hand.

"That's mine," April said, taking it from her.

"Moo Shu Pancakes?" Roger read, staring at the label.

"Mine," Benny said, reaching for it.

"There's such thing as Chinese pancakes?" Roger asked.

"Yes, now give it here," Benny said, snatching it.

"Chicken and Snow Peas, that's yours right Mo?" Roger handed her the container.

"Which means the Lo Mein is yours. Marky, we weren't sure what to get you, so we got you the shrimp, beef and chicken in hot garlic sauce combo." Maureen said, sliding the container down the table.

"Fair enough. I'm hungry enough to eat it all."

April pulled out a bottle of soda, "You got Root Beer?"

"Yeah, I figured we could use a change from brown water," Roger replied, pouring himself a glass.

Maureen began picking pieces of chicken and vegetables out and putting them on her plate.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked.

"I don't like all the stuff that's in here, I'm getting the good stuff," Maureen said, carefully holding back the rest of the food and tipping the container so that the sauce spread over her plate. 

"I've never seen someone eat Chinese food the way you do," Mark said, snatching a baby corn from her plate. 

For a while the only sounds that could be heard were the clanking of utensils and small bits of conversation such as "pass the rice" and "that's mine, don't touch it or I'll shove my fork in your hand"

"Fortune cookie time!" Benny announced after everyone had finished eating and were sprawled in various places in the living room.

"What's fortune cookie time?" April asked, looking up at Roger, her head in his lap.

Just then the phone began to ring.

"I got it," Mark said, getting up.

"Well it's kinda a tradition we've had for a while," Roger explained to April, "After we eat we each open a fortune cookie and try to figure out what the hell it means."

"Sure hang on just a sec," Mark said into the receiver, "Guys it's Collins!"

"Great!" Maureen exclaimed, "It was his idea to start this cookie thing in the first place, put it on speaker phone!"

Mark pressed a button on the phone and Collins's voice echoed through the room.

"Hey guys, what's going on?"

"We just finished eating Chinese food, we're gonna open fortune cookies. You called at the perfect time," Roger said. 

"Oh great, let me hear them," Collins answered.

"Tell us about MIT first!" April called.

"I'll tell you afterwards, you got me curious now."

"Ok, um April you go first," Mark said, tossing her a cookie.

"Why me?"

"Because this is the first time you're participating in our ritual."

"Oh fine," she mumbled, breaking the cookie in half and pulling out the fortune.

"Love is hard work; and hard work sometimes hurts," she read.

"That's a good one, what do you think it means?" Benny asked.

"I think it's pretty self explanatory," April replied, "Love hurts."

Roger hugged her tightly, "I don't want to hurt you."

"Well now if I actually believed in these things that would be a different story."

Maureen gasped, "Oh you can't participate in the ritual if you don't believe in fortune cookies! It upsets the fortune cookie gods! Right Collins?"

"Exactly," came the voice from the phone.

"Ok fine, whatever, who's next?" April said quickly.

"Benny you next," Mark said, handing him a cookie.

"Kiss the person sitting next to you," Benny read.

"It doesn't say that!" Collins argued.

"Yes it does!" Benny said, "Mark, read it and prove it to him."

"I'm afraid he's right Collins," Mark said, scanning the fortune.

"See, I told you," Benny said, kissing Mark on the cheek.

"What the hell!" Mark yelled, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"I'm just doing what was on the fortune man. If I didn't, the fortune cookie gods would unleash their wrath upon me," he added, winking at Maureen. 

"That was not an experience I want to repeat," Mark mumbled, "Remind me to sit on the other side of the room the next time we do this."

"Open yours next Mark," April said, kicking the bag of fortune cookies with her foot.

"I'm actually kinda afraid to now…" Mark said, taking a cookie tentatively and breaking it in half.

"To be surprised, to wonder, is to begin to understand," he read.

"Ooh great a deep one!" Maureen said, giggling.

"We're going to have to go to our expert at deep fortune cookies, Mr. Tom Collins," Benny said in a mock announcer voice.

"Very funny Benny," Collins said, taking a deep breath, "Ok sounds to me like you're content right now with everything. You pretty much know everything that's going to happen, but in reality you don't. So you need some kind of wake up call that will serve as a realization that you don't know that you don't know."

Mark stared blankly at the phone, "What?"

Collins laughed, "You need something different to happen in your pathetic redundant life!"

"Oh so that's what it means! I'm glad I have cookie master Collins to explain my fortunes," Mark said, causing everyone to burst out laughing

"When did you all become such smart asses? You weren't like that when I lived there. Have I been gone that long?" Collins said, the others could hear the laughter in his voice.

"Ok, Maureen you're next," Mark said, tossing her a cookie. She broke it open.

"When all other means of communication fail, try words."

"Isn't speaking the only way to communicate?" Roger asked.

"No stupid, you can use body language and actions and things too. You know that whole 'actions speak louder than words' thing?" April replied.

"So then why would it be telling me to use words if actions speak louder?" Maureen wondered aloud.

"Well maybe because you're actions aren't always clear. Sure they speak louder, but that doesn't mean they speak clearer," Collins suggested. 

Maureen grinned, "Imagine us trying to do this without him."

"Ok Rog, you're last," Benny said, fishing out a cookie from the bottom of the bag.

"If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow," Roger read.

"Wow, that one is so you Roger!" Maureen said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I mean you have a tendency to lose your temper and-"

"No I don't!" Roger snapped, then grinned, "Shut up."

April wrapped her arms around him, "It's ok baby. But let that be good advice to you, patience is a virtue."

Roger kissed her gently.

"Well that was fun," Benny said, starting to get up.

"Wait a second, there's one more cookie here!" Mark said, turning the bag upside down, a single fortune cookie fell out.

"What should we do with it?" Maureen asked.

"Give it to Collins," April said, smiling.

"Ok," Collins agreed, "Mark read it out loud."

"Be patient.  Your biggest dream will come true," Mark read.

There was silence for a moment. Then Roger laughed.

"So what's your biggest dream Collins?" he asked.

"Probably some teaching job."

"Or world peace."

"Collins?" Mark asked, "You still there?"

"What? Yeah," Collins answered, obviously distracted, "Listen someone just showed up at my door, I gotta go."

"Oh but you have to analyze the fortune!" Maureen protested.

"I know, I'll do it on my own and let you guys know the next time I call. I really have to go though."

"Ok, bye."

There was a loud 'click' as Collins hung up the phone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The ex-teacher sat on the edge of his bed, his hand still on the phone. His body was trembling in a way he couldn't control, could that fortune mean what he thought it did? Collins had always been known to be a true believer in love, but lately his thoughts had strayed; maybe love was just something one read about in fairy tales, it was no more real than the characters that experienced it. Certainly he hadn't been living the fairy tale romance life since he arrived here. The first night at MIT he had met Ben, a junior who invited him to a party. Collins had accepted, thinking it would be a good way to meet people, but he didn't expect to have such a good time, especially in the back bedroom of Ben's apartment. For the first time in his life, Tom Collins had had a night of drunken meaningless sex with a man he'd probably never see again; and he didn't feel the least bit bad about it. His eyes had been opened to the wonderful world of sex with no ties, no love, just pure lust. And he was enjoying every minute of it.

There was a soft knock on the door before it creaked open. A boy with curly blonde hair poked his head in, smiling brightly. 

"Hi Eric," Collins said, smiling himself. Eric was his new boyfriend of two weeks, which was longer than any of his other relationships had lasted. He just couldn't find it in himself to attach to anyone, but perhaps that was because no one wanted to attach to him either. Everyone knew he was HIV positive, so that limited him options, though some were willing to risk it, but Collins knew he had to be honest with himself, who'd want to be with someone like him? Sure a nightly fling was great, but being with the same person got old, and he wasn't going to live forever. 

"You ok?" Eric asked, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to him, "You look… distracted."

"What? Oh no, I'm not distracted, I just got off the phone with some old friends from New York City."

"Your old roomies?" Eric asked, gently lacing his fingers through Tom's. 

"Yeah."

"Any of them cute?"

"Sure, but they're all straight so…"

"Oh well that's no fun," Eric said, giggling. He leaned over, putting his head in Collins's lap, fiddling with one of his dreadlocks. 

"So, any plans for tonight?" Collins asked, tracing the patterns of Eric's shirt with his fingers.

"Oh I can think of a few things," Eric replied, grinning mischievously. He reached up and kissed Collins passionately, his hands working to unbutton the philosopher's shirt. Collins responded by pulling the boy closer, his fingers fighting with the zipper on Eric's jeans. The two fell back on the bed, a mess of half shed clothes and tangled limbs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Screw love,_ Collins thought to himself, _Love can't give you this._

Eric lay wrapped in his arms, sleeping silently, but Collins couldn't quiet his thoughts enough to sleep. He couldn't get over the fortune cookie's message, it kept playing in his head. 

"Be patient," he whispered aloud, "You're biggest dream will come true." Yeah, love had been his biggest dream once. But not anymore. He wanted to fall in love, he wanted to be able to know that he could go home and find someone there, someone who wasn't there simply to get laid, but someone he cared about, someone who completed him. Someone he couldn't live without. Sure he had wanted that at one time, but then he grew up.

Eric stirred beside him. In a few days, they'd get tired of each other, and he'd be just another one of the many men that don't mean anything, just another face in the crowd. Collins knew that he shouldn't care, but deep inside, he did.

"Be patient," he told himself. What he was looking for would come true.

          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	16. Depends on Trust

Nothing to say before hand, getting right to the chapter…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 16: Depends on Trust

"This root beer tastes like ketchup!" Roger exclaimed.

This caused everyone in the room to stop what they were doing and stare at him. He looked around at everybody.

"What? It does!"

"Ketchup?" Benny repeated, "Roger please explain because I'm very confused, how does root beer taste like ketchup?"

"I don't know, but it does! Taste it!" 

"I'll taste it," April said, taking the cup from Roger's hand and taking a sip. She paused a moment, deep in concentration.

"Nope, tastes like root beer to me," she stated handing the cup back to him.

"You're not helping my case April."

"I'm sorry sweetie but it doesn't!"

Roger downed the rest of the drink, making a face.

"Ok maybe it doesn't…"

"Hey guys, has Maureen come home yet?" Mark asked, coming out of his room.

Roger and April exchanged a nervous glance.

"Um, no Mark, not yet," Roger replied, taking April's hand.

"Um guys, I'm gonna go to bed, I gotta get up early. Good night!" Benny said, quickly retreating into his room, he knew well enough not to stay for this. 

Mark gave a long sigh, "Has she called or anything?"

"No," came Roger's timid reply.

Mark looked at his watch, "It's after midnight."

"We'll wait up with you if you want," April offered, "It's not fair to have to wait alone."

"No it's ok, I'm used to waiting."

Something about his tone sent a pang through Roger's heart. He remembered when Maureen had first moved in how Mark would wait up every night for her to come home, and Roger would wait with him. He did it mostly to keep his friend's mind off of wondering what Maureen could possibly be doing at 1, 2 or 3 in the morning. Eventually it happened so often that he and Collins had to take shifts, each night they'd trade off who waited, but Mark was there every night, staring at the door, waiting for it to creak open and reveal Maureen and her newest excuse.

"No Mark, I'll wait with you," he said, letting go of April's hand. Mark shook his head.

"No, it's ok really. I need to do this alone."

"Well, alright then… if you're sure."

"I am."

Roger looked at April, uncertain. She tried to smile but couldn't.

"Come on," she whispered, "let's just go to my place."

Roger nodded, following her to the door. He stopped and looked back.

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying really."

"Go," Mark said, waving him away, "Be with your girlfriend."

Roger hesitated, "I don't want to leave you alone."

"I'll be fine, go."

"Alright. I'll be at April's, give me a call if you need anything."  
            "Will do. Bye."

Roger shut the door, following April down the stairs. Once they were out of earshot he grabbed her hand.

"I feel like I need to stay."

"Roger honey, he doesn't want you to. I know this is tough, but he needs to do this alone," April said, hugging him gently.

Roger clung to her, "You don't understand, Maureen and I had a fight a few weeks back and he walked in on it and we were saying some things that… I don't know how he's gonna take this if he's alone."

"What did he hear?"

"Well I knew from the beginning that Maureen's been cheating on him, and I confronted her about it and Mark happened to hear and I'm afraid he's going to say something to her."

"And what if he does? She needs to know it's wrong."

"I guess."

"You can't be his guardian forever, you have to let him live life on his own."

"I know. Come on, let's go."

The two walked arm in arm outside into the cold spring air.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Maureen opened the door slowly, careful not to make a sound and wake anyone up. She eased into the room, feeling her way around in the dark, hoping not to crash into anything, as Collins had been known to do late at night. Several months before everyone had been jerked awake by a loud crashing sound followed by a muffled curse. Roger had armed himself with a broken chair leg and went to investigate only to find Collins sprawled on the floor with a big red splotch in the middle of his forehead. He had been searching for a glass of water and had walked into the fridge. 

Maureen giggled to herself at the memory of it, she had been so convinced it was a burglar she was halfway out the fire escape before Mark could tell her what happened. Her good mood ended abruptly when she walked into her room. Instead of finding Mark sound asleep as she normally did, he was sitting on the bed staring at her when she entered.

"Where were you?" he asked, his tone sharp and angry, not at all like Mark.

"I'm sorry, I was-"

"What's your excuse this time Maureen? You haven't done this in awhile, you can try one of your old ones, maybe I won't remember that you used it already. Let's see, what were some of them? Oh yes, you ran into some old friends, you had to work late, you lost your keys. Which one is it this time?"

Maureen took a step backwards, obviously shocked at the attack, "Mark are you ok?"

Mark crossed his arms over his chest, "Go ahead, tell me your story."

She hesitated, "Listen, I don't like this, you're scaring me. What's gotten into you?"

Mark gave a harsh laugh, "What's gotten into me? I should ask you the same question. Or maybe it should be _who's _gotten into you?"

"How dare you!" Maureen shrieked, "Don't you dare accuse me of things when you have no proof!"

"No proof?" Mark repeated, "How's this? You come home late when you don't have a job or anything respectable to do, you refuse to tell me where you were, and my best friend already told me that you're cheating on me!"

"Mark, pookie listen-"

"Don't 'Mark, pookie' me! I'm sick of your shit Maureen! Why?" He asked, his voice slowly softened, as if the anger was too much for him to bear, "why would you do this to me?"

Maureen moved closer slowly, reaching out and touching him gently on the shoulder, "I don't want to hurt you, really I don't."

"Well you did," he said, pulling away from her and walking out the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked, hurrying after him.

"I don't know, somewhere."

"It's after 1!" 

Mark wheeled around to face her, his eyes burning, "You try waiting up for me for once, see what it's like."

"Mark please, don't go!" Maureen called, running to him and grabbing his arm.

He pulled away, staring straight into her eyes, "What was his name Maureen?"

She fell silent. Mark turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Maureen sniffed back the tears that sprang to her eyes, fighting back her emotions as she'd done many times before.

"_Her_ name was Sabrina," she said defiantly to the closed door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roger and April hurried into her apartment, closing the door quickly behind them.

"Wow it is raining hard!" Roger said, shaking his hair out so that the droplets sprayed April. She shrieked and jumped backwards.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to do that," Roger said with mock innocence.

"Yeah yeah sure. Sit down, I'll get something to drink."

Roger sat on the couch, picking up one of the magazines on the table and thumbing through it. He could hear the clinking of glasses in the other room.

"400 ways to meet hot single guys," he read aloud, coming across an interesting article.

"Roger Aaron Davis you put that magazine down now!" came April's voice from the kitchen.

Roger chuckled, "And if I don't?"

April appeared in the doorway, two glasses and a bottle of wine clutched in her hand, "I will have to hurt you."

Roger lay back on the couch and spread his arms out lazily, "Go ahead."

April carefully set down the drinks before running at him, leaping on top of him and wringing her wet hair out in his face.

"Surrender!" she demanded, continuing to soak both her boyfriend and her couch.

"Never!" he cried, trying to wrestle her off. The two fell off the couch with a thud, both of them very wet. He climbed on top of her, trying to catch her hair that was flying madly around. April grabbed a pillow from the couch and began beating Roger with it.

"Get off me or you will eat feathers!" she yelled, accenting each word with a hit from the pillow. He fell backwards, grabbing his own pillow. The two continued to beat each other until they couldn't see straight.

"Wow, you really put up a fight over a magazine," Roger said later as the two lay panting on the floor.

"What can I say? Sometimes I'm aggressive," April replied, grinning.

Roger began to laugh.

"Oh get your head out of the gutter stupid," she said, hitting his shoulder playfully.

He caught her hand and kissed it. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to be romantic?"

She laughed, "You call that romantic?"

"Well what would you call romantic?"

"A candlelight dinner at a fancy restaurant, maybe going to a beach and watching the sunset."

Roger snorted.

"What?" April asked, "I've never done those things, and I've always wanted to. I've lived in cities all my life, I've never even seen a beach."

Roger stretched his arm out as an invitation for April to come closer, "I've seen one, it's nothing special."

She squirmed over to him, laying her head on his chest, "What was it like?"

He thought for a moment, "Hot. I burned my feet on the sand. And I got sunburn from swimming in the water too long, I looked like a lobster and I couldn't sleep because it hurt when the sheets touched my skin. Seagulls ate all my food and I got stung by a jellyfish."

"Aww, when you say it like that it doesn't sound so wonderful," April said, kissing his neck.

"Yeah, either that or I just like to complain."

"Well you do that very well."

"Oh thank you," Roger said, pulling her closer. 

"Ugh, you're all wet," April giggled.

"Well whose fault is that?"

She tugged playfully at his wet t-shirt, "Let's get you out of these, you're going to get sick."

He grinned, "There are plus sides to getting soaked in the rain."

She smacked him again, "Go into my room, you left some clothes here a while ago and I washed them. I'll be in soon."

"I could just head home, Maureen's gotta be back by now," Roger said, starting to get up. April grabbed his hand.

"No! I mean, couldn't you stay? It's late, I don't want you walking home alone."

"I'm a big boy," he said, flexing his muscles, "but yeah, if you want me here."

"I do," she said, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Something about her look made Roger's heart soften.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I heard that," she responded, a smile growing on her face, "say it again."

"I love you," he repeated, louder this time.

April felt as if her heart stopped beating, "You mean that? Roger really?" 

He nodded, "I mean it with everything in me."

He helped her stand and pulled her into his arms. Neither one would let go of the other, and they stayed wrapped in each other for a long time.

"I love you too," she finally whispered in his ear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Review please! 


	17. Reflections

Ok, I'm so sorry about the wait for this chapter, and it's not even very long. I've been doing a lot of thinking with where I'm going with this, but now that I know it should be easier for me to write. 

Note: Due to the great feedback I got on my fortune cookie chapter I decided to add in my fortune at the beginning of each chapter (since I eat Chinese food a lot.) So if you want to interpret my fortune, go ahead. And if you think it's really stupid, let me know and I'll stop.

Fortune: Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you (yes, that is what is said)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 17: Reflections 

April snuggled closer to her lover, preferring the warmth of his body to that of the blanket that lay wrapped around their bodies. She rested her head on his bare chest, running her fingers along his skin, memorizing every pattern, every bump, every mark from his needles. Those marks were familiar to her; they were the same ones that appeared on her own skin. What had started as a simple experiment to see what was so special about heroin that made Roger crave it had turned into her own addiction. She needed it, she was willing to go to any lengths to get it, and she hated it. 

Beside her Roger stirred. She thought about waking him, but couldn't, he looked so adorable sleeping. She'd read somewhere that people look younger when they're asleep, and that was true of Roger. _Well, not so much younger_, she thought,_ innocent is the better word_. He didn't have the look on his face that suggested he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His face was relaxed, not taut with anger during one his screaming fits when he was high. He simply looked innocent, content with everything.

She kissed his temple before getting out of bed, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants. She looked back at her boyfriend, seeing the sun shine through the window and onto his body, making him look almost angelic. It was times like these that April wished she had some sort of artistic ability, drawing or photography, what she wouldn't give to keep that sight. She settled for securing it in her mind, which was never the safest place but it would have to do. She couldn't pull herself from that spot, she didn't want to tear her eyes away from Roger. Every time she thought of him her heart swelled with emotion. Love, Pride, Anger, Fear, Pain, Devotion. She felt it all when she looked at him, felt his touch, smelled his scent; she loved him and hated him. She hated him for what he was doing to her, for being devoted to his drug and to her at the same time, for still showing her the love she craved. But most of all, she hated herself for forgiving him all the time. Just once she wanted to be able to say, "Roger, this can't go on. You need help and I need help, we need to take a rest. I can't be happy with you until I'm happy with me". But she couldn't say that, she was too afraid. 

"April?" came Roger's groggy voice, he turned over, feeling for her.

"April!" he called again, more frantic this time.

"I'm here," she said, moving to him and touching his hand, "I'm right here."

He smiled, "I was afraid you'd left."

"This is my house silly, where would I go?"

"I don't know," he replied, stretching.

"I'll let you wake up and we can go get something to eat ok?"

"Sure. April?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

April hesitated, almost as if she didn't want to return it. She was afraid of the effect he had on her, the blind devotion she had to him.

"I love you too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Mark?" Maureen asked, finding her boyfriend asleep on the couch the next morning. He was still in his clothes, his coat draped over him like a blanket. He must have come in late last night, after she had gone to sleep. She had lay in bed, feeling the empty spot next to her, knowing Mark wasn't there, and she felt empty. She wanted to feel his arms draped around her as she fell asleep, wanted to hear his soft breathing. It gave her a sense of security. He was never missing, every time she came in late he was always there waiting for her. And after explaining herself he'd give in and swallow his anger and they'd go to bed; he'd always fall asleep with his body as close to her as possible. Sometimes it bothered her, but last night she realized how much she missed it.

Maureen stood behind the couch, watching him. Tentatively she reached out and pulled the coat securely on his body, her fingers lingering. They slid up his face, touched his lips, his cheek, his temple. He looked so different without his glasses on. She touched his hair, her fingers getting caught in the curls. He never let her do this when he was awake, he hated people touching his hair, something she was sure he learned from Roger. Now he didn't mind, he lay there, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to her presence. 

She continued to watch him sleep until he stirred, moaning softly as he stretched and turned. She stepped back, not wanting him to know she had been watching him. He didn't even notice her until she cleared her throat purposefully. He turned and she saw his face fall, obviously he had been hoping to see anyone but her.

"Morning," she offered.

He just nodded.

"What time did you get in?"

He shrugged.

"Have you heard from Roger?"

He shook his head.

Finally she lost her patience, "Are you gonna talk to me at all?"

He shrugged again.

To her surprise, she felt tears spring to her eyes. She fought them back and raised her chin defiantly. 

"Mark this is stupid. I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry! What more do you want me to do? Scream? Cry? Beg? I'm not going to beg, I refuse to beg. I'm trying to hold on to a scrap of pride Mark! Pride's all I have left," she finished helplessly.

Mark turned to face her, his eyes full of pain.

"Your pride? I'm glad you still have some of yours because I've lost mine completely."

"What do you mean?"

"Maureen how do you think I feel when I go crawling back to you? What do you think I go through when my mind wants to get rid of you and my heart can't be without you? I'm torn in two! I hate it, and my pride can't take it anymore." His voice broke as the tears came. Maureen never saw Mark cry, he looked so incredibly helpless. She went to hug him but he pulled away.

"I can't do this anymore, I can't," he said, sniffling, "Maureen I love you. I do, but I know you don't love me. That's what's killing me. That I want to be with you so bad and you just don't feel the same way."

Maureen wrung her hands together, resisting the urge to break down completely. 

"Mark," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "Mark please don't think that I don't care about you. I do. More than you understand. And I don't want to hurt you, that's the last thing I want to do. I can't stand that I hurt you."

"Then why do you do it?"

That started the tears. At first only one fell, but after a moment they just began to stream.

"Mark…" Maureen started, but she couldn't find anything to say.

He sat back down on the couch, wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve. She moved over to him but he couldn't look at her. She knelt down next to him.

"Mark?" he didn't respond.

"Mark, listen. I'm no good at speaking like this, you know me, I'm an actress, it has to be rehearsed," she noticed his lip quirk upward, "but let me try. There's a lot of things I don't tell you, things I hide from you. But one thing that I want you to know is this: I love you. Please don't think I don't. That would kill me."

She touched his chin gently, pulling his head to face her. Their eyes locked. 

"You do?" he asked.

She nodded, "I do."

He pulled her into him, hugging her as tightly as he could. He couldn't believe he was taking her back again, his mind screamed to break it off but he couldn't. He needed her, he wasn't complete without her. Still, that didn't explain the confusion he felt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_ring ring_

"Come on, pick up"

_ring ring ring_

"Collins pick up the phone!" Mark muttered, shivering in the cold. He stood outside at that same payphone, since they hadn't paid their phone bill, making a long distance call just to tell a friend that he and Maureen were back together again. Ever since Collins had left, Mark realized how much he needed his guidance, his cool head, his calm thinking. He had just never realized how much guidance Collins needed himself. He was worried about his friend, he knew all about the constant flings and the parties, and he knew that it was the exact opposite of the Tom Collins he knew. But every time he tried to bring it up, Collins would insist that he had to leave.

_ring ring ring_

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end at last.

"Collins!"

"Hey Mark," he replied.

"You sound out of breath, are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm ok," Collins said, Mark could hear the shift in his voice tone.

Suddenly it dawned on him, "Is this a bad time?" he asked quickly.

Collins gave a small chuckle, "Um yes. Yes it is."

"Oh God! I'm so sorry! Listen, just give me a call when you get the chance ok?"

"Yeah alright."

"Ok you just go back to… what you were doing."

"Thanks but the moment's kinda ruined now."

"Sorry man," Mark said before hanging up.

Collins put the phone back on the hook, shaking his head.

"Who was that?" came the voice of his newest friend. Aaron, the tall, dark, and handsome guy that everyone wanted. 

"A friend with bad timing," Collins replied.

He moved closer to the boy, fixing his long dark brown hair, which was flying in every direction. 

"Why the hell did you answer the phone?" Aaron asked, looking put out. He leaned back and his pale skin glowed in the moonlight.

Collins shrugged, "I'm one of those people that can't let a phone just ring."

"Um hello? This is not exactly something where you can just go 'oh hang on a sec, I have to answer the phone'" Aaron said indignantly.

"I'm sorry," Collins said, pulling him closer.

"Make it up to me." Aaron said, his dark eyes glowing.

"Fair enough."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once again, Collins lay in his bed that was now caked in DNA feeling empty. It didn't make sense, he'd just had an incredible orgasm, why was he feeling empty?

"This blows," he muttered, then looked over at Aaron's sleeping form, "literally," he added with a chuckle. Sighing, he turned to his side so as not to look at him. What was the matter with him? He was living it up practically every night, he'd never been this active in his life. He almost always had someone hanging on his arm or laying next to him. So why did he feel so alone? 

_I never used to feel this way_, he thought to himself, _even when I was alone, I never felt this lonely._

He shook himself mentally, that made no sense. You're lonely when you're alone, and when you're with people you're not lonely. End of story. So what was the big deal? Collins couldn't quiet his mind. As hard as he tried, his thoughts kept straying back to the conversations he'd had with Mark about love.

_"I don't know Collins, I mean, Maureen's great but I don't know if I love her," Mark had said._

_"Don't think too much about it," Collins told him, "When it's love, you'll know it."_

_"Have you ever been in love?"_

Had he? Surely not with anyone he'd met at MIT that's for sure. Maybe he had. What was love anyway? Before he had been so sure, but now it all seemed so foreign.

_"Not yet," he had replied, "but I will someday."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"Because no one is meant to be alone."_

And he wasn't alone. Not physically. But inside he ached with loneliness, he yearned for the love he had once wanted. Not sex with no strings, but true utter devotion to a single person. Did he really want that or was he just being desperate? 

_"You'll find someone Collins, if anyone deserves to fall in love it's you," Mark had said, giving him a soft smile. _

_I don't deserve love_, he thought, wrapping his arm around Aaron, _whatever love is. I'm not even sure anymore._

_         ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_Review please!_


	18. Towels, Songs, and Friends

Please don't kill me, I've been so busy lately. I've been out of town 3 weekends in a row, had 2 school projects to do, etc etc so I haven't had much time to write. We're getting to the climax/turning point of the story, so I'm going to be very meticulous about these next few chapters. but anyway, I'll shut up now.

Fortune: Your example will inspire others

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 18: Towels, Songs, and Friends

"Ok, can someone please explain to me why anyone would make a towel that does not fit around your waist?" Mark said to himself, fighting with a blue towel as he got out of the shower. He held it tightly against his body and made a dash for his bedroom.

"Why is this towel so small?!" He cried as it began slipping off.

"Because it's a hair towel," came the answer from a female voice.

Mark leaped ten feet in the air, letting out a high-pitched shriek.

April stood, giggling, in the doorway, watching him frantically try to cover his body with the tiny towel. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked, blushing.

"I came to see Roger."

"He's out right now."

"Do you know where he went?"

"He's out with the band guys. Listen, can you just give me two seconds to-"

"Yes, go get changed!" April finished for him, waving her arm towards his room. He ran full speed into his room and shut the door.

She sat down on the couch, flipping through Mark's latest screenplay.

"Why are hair towels so small?" Mark called through the door.

April shrugged, then realized he couldn't see her, "I don't know. Maybe cause they belong on your hair?"

She heard Mark scoff, "It was more of a rhetorical question."

"Sorry," she called just as the door opened. Mark walked out in a pair of loose jeans and no shirt. He had the hair towel on his head, wrapped the way he'd seen Maureen do it.

April clamped her hand to her mouth and buried her face in the couch to keep from laughing. It was quite a sight. Her body shook with silent laughter and she heard Mark give an annoyed sigh.

"What? This is the way it's supposed to be worn right?"

"Well yeah but…" she couldn't finish her sentence, she was laughing too hard.

"Ok that's enough! It's not that funny," he pouted, hands on his hips.

"Stop doing that, you look too much like Maureen and it's scaring me," she said, he eyes glowing brightly.

Mark considered this, "Yeah you're right, that is scary," he agreed, taking the towel off.

April smiled, "So why were you trying to use a hair towel instead of a regular towel?"

"It was the first one I found," he replied, shrugging. Suddenly his eyes widened, "You didn't see anything… well…"

"No I didn't," April said, laughing, then added, "Cute butt though."

Mark turned crimson and put his face in his hands, moaning with embarrassment.

"I'm just kidding!" she said, grabbing his arm and prying his hands away. He was still blushing furiously.

"You are so cute," she said, giggling, "I don't mean that as a come on by the way."

_Why do all girls think I'm cute, yet not as a come on?_ Mark thought, remembering Mimi's words.

"So where's Roger?" April asked, becoming serious.

"He's out at practice with the guys."

"Again? That's all he ever does now," she said, laying her head down on the couch.

He noticed her sudden switch in moods, "He's not always with them."

"He has been for the past week."

"Well yeah but they're practicing for their gig tonight. After tonight it'll be all over and he can go back to being with you 24/7."

She smiled, "I just miss him."

            "Hey join the club. I miss Maureen all the time."

            She looked guilty, "I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me."

            "Nah, it's ok. I don't care."

            "Sure you do."

            He smiled, "Oh let's just have a pity party for us on 3. 1… 2…3"

            "Awwwwww," they both said together, then erupted in a fit of giggles.

            "You know, I never get to hang out with you," Mark noted, hopping over the back of the couch and sitting down next to April, "You're really pretty cool."

            "Thanks. You're cool too."

            "I can see why Roger likes you."

            She turned to face him, intrigued, "And why is that?"

            "You're not afraid to say what you mean. You're really strong."

            She considered this, her eyes on the coffee table.

            "I mean, obviously you're beautiful, but I never realized how much fun it is to be around you. I could see us becoming good friends you know? But you can't really do that with Roger, being as he's your boyfriend and all."

            "No, I can't be friends with Roger because he thinks friend and girlfriend are two separate things. You're his best friend, I'm his girlfriend, that's just the way it is. I mean, I understand him, and we talk and stuff, but I don't have the kind of connection to him that you do. But really, could you imagine telling Maureen about that girl at the club who turned you on, or the guys in the band, or the song you were writing?"

            Mark looked surprised, "Yeah, I never really thought about it. I've always wondered why a person can't be your lover and your best friend at the same time, but I guess they're just two different things."

            She nodded, "Why is that?"

            "I don't know," Mark admitted, "But I don't think it should be that way. If a person's your 'soul mate' and all that, then you should be able to say anything to them you know? They would have to be your best friend if you're going to spend the rest of your life with them. I mean think about it, you spend a lot more time around them, talking, cuddling, than you do in the bedroom. I dunno, maybe I'm weird, but the girl I end up being marrying would have to be more than good in bed."

            "You're not weird at all. In fact, I think you're really smart. Not a lot of people realize that, I know Roger hasn't."

            "Do you think you might marry him?"

            She paused, "I don't know. I love him, I know that. But he's so unpredictable, sometimes I don't know what's going through his head, and… I don't know. Maybe I'm thinking too far into things."

            "Maybe we both are," Mark suggested.

            "Yeah, so let's talk about something random and superficial," she suggested.

            "Like what?"

            "Well we could go back to the towel thing…"

            Mark blushed again, "Or we could not."

            "But that's so much fun!" April insisted. 

            "No, no it really isn't."

            "Yes it is."

            "Is not."

            "Is too!"

            "Is not!"

            "Too!"

            "Not!"

            ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            "Alright guys I think we've got about 15 minutes before we have to get ready so wanna run this one more time?" Roger asked, surveying his band mates.

            Guitar player Zack took a swig from his water bottle and nodded, "My hands are going to hurt like hell afterwards but let's do it."

            Jake, the bass player, rubbed his fingers, "Shit man, mine already hurt. You'd think I'd have gotten calluses on my hands by now."

            Drummer Shawn threw a drumstick at him, which whizzed by harmlessly, "If you practiced a little more maybe they would."

            "You start with me and I'll shove this drumstick up your ass Shawn!"

            "I'm so scared now. You're so full of shit."

            "Just try me, go ahead."

            "What the hell is wrong with you-"

            "Ok that's enough," Zack said, rolling his eyes, "We are spending way too much time together, I'm sick of listening to you two fight."

            Roger grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the pocket of Zack's coat that was flung over a chair and swallowed two dry. He had a terrible headache.

            Shawn noticed this and swiveled in his seat to look at him, "You okay man?"

            "Yeah," Roger replied, "Just feeling lousy."

            "You sick?"

            "Nah, just a headache, probably from listening to you and Jake. And the music."

            "And Jake's shitty playing," Shawn added.

            "What did I say?" Jake snapped, waving the drumstick threateningly.

            "Okay shut up both of you. Let's just do the song one more time," Roger said, massaging his temples.

            The four men took their places and Zack counted off the beats.

            "1, 2, 3, 4."

            The room exploded with the harsh rock music, all four of their bodies pulsed with the bass line. Roger shook his blonde hair from his eyes and leaned into the microphone.

            "Tell me where you are, tell me where you've been," he sang in his sexy baritone voice, "Why do I gotta pry these things from you again? Tell me who you are, cause you never seem to grow, tell me all the things that I need to know."

            He continued to sing, losing himself in the song. That was his favorite thing about singing, he could disappear within his lyrics, hide behind the melodies, and it was his own choice whether he ever came back down. When he sang, he flew higher than the clouds. He never shot up before he sang, never performed high, he couldn't sing as well and there was no hope for his guitar playing, but he never needed to. His song was his high. When he sang, he forgot about everything, it was just him and the lyrics, the story he needed to tell. The rest of the band was there, but they weren't with him, he was alone but not lonely. He lived for the times when he could sing. Times like these were the best of his life.  

            "It's not that I don't need you, it's not that I don't want you. It's just that I don't love you. At least not the way you want me to," he finished.

            He struck his ending chord and fell with a crash back to Earth. Everything returned, his headache, his memories, and most of all, his cravings. 

            "Great job guys, I think that was our best yet," Jake said.

            Zack ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair, "Roger where did you get the idea for this song?"

            Roger carefully placed his guitar in its case, "Um, from a friend."

            "It's nice, one of your best."

            "Thanks."

He felt it again, that need. It consumed him, turned him against himself. He quickly took a swig of water, dismissing his hunger for his drug. He told himself that if he shot up now there was no way he could sing well at the gig tonight. And he needed to do well tonight.

"Rog, dude you're shaking."

"What?" he looked down at his hands, they were visibly shivering, this craving was coming on hard and strong. 

"Nerves," Jake said, tossing him a joint, "This'll calm you down."

Roger lit it and took a long drag, "Thanks."

It was with the band that Roger had begun experimenting with drugs. It had never been a big deal, it was something all rock bands did. He had smoked cigarettes and pot since he was around 16, but he hadn't started doing the hardcore stuff until he met Jake. Jake had introduced him to a whole new world, was his teacher in a classroom unfamiliar to him. He still remembered the first time he had used heroin, how nervous he had been because of the things he'd heard. How a person could get HIV through a shared needle and other things like that. But once the needle had slid under his skin, once he felt the drug being pumped into his body, all his fears had disappeared. In fact, pretty much everything had disappeared. In all honesty, Roger had become addicted to the drug after his first high, he knew immediately that this was it, this was what he wanted. A way of disappearing from the bills and the nagging girlfriends and the songs that had to be written. It was his key from the cell he was locked in 24/7, he was a prisoner in his own body and when that needle came in contact with him he gained wings and slipped through the bars on the window. Flew into the sky and soared until the wings melted from the sun. Each return was harder than the last, each time the bars grew closer to each other, it was harder to slip through them. But he did. He always found a way to.


	19. The Big Night

Yes ladies and gentlemen, after 4 months, I am back and have what is officially my longest and most difficult chapter yet. The bulk of this thing was written in March, but the finishing touches took 3 months to put in. I am really sorry. Now that the summer has started, I'm hoping I won't take so long. I've also realized I have some serious plot continuities which are mostly due to my not knowing what I was doing in the early chapters. I will attempt to fix those. Anyway, you've waited long enough, here is chapter 19.

* * *

Chapter 19: The Big Night

Mark, Maureen, Benny and April walked into the club where Roger's band was supposed to be playing that night. They were greeted by the sounds of loud guitars and even louder singing from the band onstage. The lead guitarist threw his head around, letting his long hair fly in every direction. The four watched as the singer ripped his shirt off, exposing his bare, built chest. The music grew louder. Their bodies pulsed with the baseline. They quickly found a table and sat down, steadying the glasses that were shaking; the candle wavered dangerously and Maureen quickly blew it out. People littered the club, drinking, dancing, having a good time. A small group of drunken men were attempting to start a mosh pit at the front of the dance floor. It was a typical club scene.

"We came just in time," Mark said loudly, trying to make his voice heard over the music, "I think this is the band before the Hungarians."

"What are they called?" April asked.

"Vegas, I think," Mark answered.

"Oh, cause they should be called the Eardrum Breakers," she said, her hands over her ears. Maureen nodded, fishing wads of tissues out of her purse and stuffing them in her ears.

"You're just not used to it," Mark said, smiling, "I've been to a lot of the Hungarians practices, they're always this loud."

Benny stole a few tissues from Maureen, "I don't get their name, The Well Hungarians. Where did that come from?"

Maureen rolled her eyes, hitting Benny upside the head, "Think about it. It's a group of four men who are horny and penisy."

"Penisy?" Mark repeated, "Is that even a word?"

"Yes," April said, "It is the word that describes the behaviors of men. They are stupid and smelly and think through their genitals. Therefore they are penisy."

Maureen and April silently hit high fives under the table.

Benny shook his head in wonder, "That makes no sense. But anyway, what does this have to do with their name?"

"Wow you are dense!" Maureen said, "Think about it, Well Hungarians, well hung…"

"Oh!" Benny exclaimed.

"Light bulb!" Mark said miming pulling a chain over Benny's head.

The table erupted in laughter. After a few minutes a waitress hurried over, pulling her dark brown hair back into a messy bun. She wore a white shirt with a watermelon printed on it and sported the words 'bite me' on top, and a black mini-skirt that hugged her thighs.

"What can I get for you guys?" she asked. Her eyes surveyed the group carefully, and she lingered on Benny, who flashed a smile.

"I'll have a Black Russian," Maureen said, crossing her legs so that her skirt crept up her thigh. Several men at the surrounding tables noticed this and waited to see if she'd lift it any higher. It was an internal thing with Maureen, she always had to be the one that people looked at.

"I'll have a martini," Benny asked, watching the waitress carefully, like a tiger eyeing its prey. Already he was interested, it never took Benny long to find someone he liked.

"And you?" she asked, turning to Mark.

"Vodka Gimlet," he said.

April made a face, "Nasty. Slow Gin Fizz please."

"Sure," the waitress said, scribbling down their orders, "You guys here to see the bands?"

"Yeah, her boyfriend is singing with the Well Hungarians," Benny said, indicating April. It was a clever move; since Mark's arm was around Maureen it was obvious they were together and by specifying that April was with someone else, he had just discreetly told her he was single. Which would have been great were he actually single.

The waitress nodded, "I've heard them before. They're great. Well, I'll be right back with your drinks."

She turned on her heel and walked away.

"Benny, eyes off," Mark said reproachfully.

"Off of what?" Benny asked, not looking at him.

"Her ass."

"I'm not looking at her ass!"

"Right, you were admiring her skirt," Maureen said, rolling her eyes.

"What is this, Harass Benny Day?" Benny asked indignantly.

"Oh, something like that," April replied, grinning at him.

* * *

Roger stood with his forehead against the wall. He liked the feel of the cold cement against his burning skin; he was convinced he was coming down with something. He was in the dressing room the Hungarians shared, trying to tap into his inner peace, or something like that he had seen on a yoga video Collins had rented. He was also finding that difficult to do, owing to the other band mates making large amounts of noise.

"Has anybody seen my drumsticks?"

"Look in your coat."

"I did."  
"Check your bag."

"I did."

"Have you looked up your ass?"

"Oh there they are, thanks for your help."

_Deep breaths. Breathe and think. Mindset of the music._

"Jake don't light a joint now!"

"Why not?"

"You won't be able to think about your playing, which is shit already."

"Besides, we're about to go on in a second!"

_Think about the lyrics, what do they mean. Ignore those asses, just think about tonight and the show. _

"Roger? Have you died?"

Roger snapped out of his trance, "What?"

"It's ok guys, he's alive," Shawn said, still waving his hand in front of Roger's face. Roger wanted very much to bite that hand off, but instead settled for hitting him in the stomach.

"That was nice," Shawn wheezed.

"Leave him alone," Zack said, "He's harnessing his Chi."

Roger gave him the finger and leaned against the wall. Jake took a long drag from his joint then held it out to Roger.

"Need a hit? You look stressed."

"I'm fine," Roger replied, feeling like his head was about to explode. Jake blew the smoke out in his friend's face.

"Suit yourself."

"Hey where are we going after the show?" Zack asked, sitting down in a chair.

There was a quick knock on the door and it opened without waiting for an answer. A man in a headset stuck his head in.

"Five minutes."

The Hungarians nodded a response and went back to their conversation.

"There's a great club called the Cat Scratch, anyone ever been?" Jake said.

Roger raised his hand, "I have. It's good. Lots of hot girls."

"Strippers?" Shawn asked.

Jake nodded.

"Works for me," Zack said, spinning around in the chair.

"So after the show we head straight there." Jake said.

"I may be a little late," Roger said, "I have to meet my girlfriend and friends, they came to see the show."

"Good idea Rog, tell your girlfriend you're going to a strip club," Shawn said, rolling his eyes.

"She doesn't know it's a strip club. Besides, it's not like I'm not allowed to have fun. She knows that."

"That's right Roger! You wear the pants in the relationship!" Zack said, punching the air, which caused him to lose his balance and fall out of the chair. The others stared at him as he tried to keep some of his dignity while he untangled himself from the chair legs.

There was another knock on the door and the same headset man stuck his face in.

"You're on guys."

"Well guys, this is it," Shawn said, helping Zack to his feet.

"Nervous?" Roger asked.

"You wish."

* * *

The Hungarians rushed onto the stage just as Vegas was leaving. They all took their respective positions. Jake slid the bass around his neck and tuned it a bit. Shawn played a few muffled beats on his drum set. Roger took a swig of water and cleared his throat before pulling the mike up to his mouth.

"Hey everybody, how you doing tonight?"

He was greeted by many whoops and cheers from the audience. As he waited them out, he scanned the crowd for a sight of his friends.

"We're the Well Hungarians, how many of you already know us?"

Again, there was cheering, and this time he spotted Mark in the back, camera in hand, filming every word he was saying. He shook his head slightly at his friend, but continued to charm the audience.

"Well for those of you who don't know us, hopefully we can turn you guys into fans."

Behind him, Jake rolled his eyes and pointed at his watch.

"Alright well I'll stop talking you guys to death," Roger said, glaring at Jake, "We're gonna start with a song called 'Precious Little Meltdown'."

Shawn struck his sticks together, counting off the beat, and the song began. Roger felt the heat of the lights against his skin and felt the headache he had disappear. This always happened once it came time to perform. He pulled the mike closer and sang.

> "I'll put on the coat you want and pretend to rise above  
I'll carry the cross you bare and pretend to feel the love
> 
> Tell you you're never alone, you're never alone"

Behind him, Jake was screwing up the chords. Zack shot him a look but it was obvious it couldn't be helped. Jake was stoned, and he could never play well then. Roger tried to forget about it and keep singing, but the song was going downhill.

> "You want the answers to be in a tongue you understand  
You're looking for someone like me to tell you when to throw your hand  
What battles to fight, what causes are right" 

Silently, a conversation about what to do was taking place, as there was no way Jake could finish the song this way. Shawn continued to play but stole glances at Roger whenever he looked back, clearly saying something had to be done. Zack edged closer to Jake.

> "Then I drown in a precious little meltdown  
As you fly, riding the truth just like a butterfly  
You're all following me, as I follow you all  
Take a look and you'll see, that I lied to you all  
'Cause this song is all I have" 

At this, Roger broke off into a guitar solo. He could hear the cheers from female groupies, but the only thing he paid attention to was his playing and what was happening behind him. Zack had taken off his guitar and was now sliding the bass off Jake. Quickly, he eased him off the stage and put the bass on himself. Roger smiled slightly. He was always impressed at Zack's ability to play any instrumental part. Granted, they'd be missing part of the guitar music, but that was mostly just backing lead guitar. Zack nodded at him and Roger faded back into his own world as the lyrics returned.

> "Take all of the air I breathe and you hold it in your hand  
Take all that I want to be, it's more than I can stand  
Now I'm never alone, I'm never alone"

This was one of the more recent songs Roger had wrote, inspired by a spat he'd had with April over something so minute he couldn't even remember what it was. Their feuds were becoming more frequent now, as Roger was using more often and April was becoming much more obstinate. Whenever they fought, he created a barrier that her words reflected off of so that he'd never have to hear them. In truth, he was just tired of hearing the same thing repeated to him day after day. The same things that he knew in his heart were true. He knew he could open up to her and perhaps together they could work through this, but that would mean making himself vulnerable. And to Roger, vulnerability equals weakness. And weakness is not something that can be associated with Roger Davis.

> "Then I drown in a precious little meltdown
> 
> As you fly, riding the truth just like a butterfly  
You're all following me, as I follow you all
> 
> Take a look and you'll see, that I lied to you all  
'Cause this song is all I have"

Roger floated down out of his world as the song came to a close, his entire body filled with emotion.

"This song is all I have," he sang, looking right at the spot that he knew April was, watching.

* * *

Roger worked his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes on his friends, who were standing by the door. The guys had agreed to pack up the equipment without him as long as he bought the first round of drinks at the Cat Scratch club. Which was a bit more than a small price to pay, considering how short he was on cash, but he figured it was fair because packing up equipment was never fun.

"Roger? What planet are you on?"

Roger jerked his head and his eyes focused on Mark, whose camera was on and rolling.

"Smile!" Mark said, grinning himself.

Roger rolled his eyes and ignored him. April ran forward and flung her arms around his neck, letting out a squeal of happiness.

"You were awesome!" she cried, "I loved your songs, they're so real. What happened with Jake?"

"Long story," Roger replied, kissing her gently. Maureen hurried over from the door and walked into Mark's open arms. Well, arm. The other was supporting the camera.

"Hey Rog, great set! Benny wanted me to tell you 'good job'. He just left, he's totally trashed," she said.

"Shouldn't someone go with him?" Roger asked.

"Someone did," Maureen said, "That waitress,"

April gasped, "What's Alison gonna say?"

"Hopefully she won't find out," Maureen said, shrugging. She was far too used to Benny's tactics by now, "Anyway, good job Roger. I'm telling you though, if you need a female singer…"

"I'll keep it in mind Mo. Thanks."

April slid her arms around her boyfriend's neck, "So, where are we going?"

Roger swallowed, clearing his throat, "Actually, me and the boys were gonna go out to celebrate. You know, since we did so good."

Her face fell slightly.

"Oh. Well, that's ok, I mean… yeah," she brightened suddenly, "Hey, why don't I go with you? You know, hang out with you and the boys."

Roger chewed the inside of his lip, the only sign he was nervous. No one caught it except for Mark, who knew him well enough.

"Well, you wouldn't really like the guys. They're kinda…"

"Penisy," Maureen finished when Roger couldn't seem to find the right word.

He looked at her oddly but decided not to ask, "Anyway, we're going out to go do guy stuff and all that, and it's probably not a place you wanna go."

"Are you going to a strip club or something?" she asked jokingly.

He didn't answer.

She paused, "Roger, are you seriously?"

"Well…" he looked at Mark for support, but his buddy had chosen that moment to examine his camera and was immersed in his task, "It's not really my idea, but you know band guys, they're stupid and-"

"Penisy," Maureen chimed in.

He shot her an annoyed look and she grinned.

"Anyway, I probably won't be out long, and how about I stop by afterwards?"

April listened to him while chewing slowly on her pinkie nail. She looked as if she wasn't sure how to respond.

"But I do want to spend time with you April," Roger said, still trying to talk his way out of this, "it's just, tonight's a night with the guys you know? And I think I'm entitled to that right? I'll take you out tomorrow ok, I promise. We'll go anywhere you want."

She continued to pick at her nail before finally nodding. She could keep arguing if she wanted, but what he said was true, this was a night for the guys. Maybe she was being selfish, trying to keep him all for herself. She glanced at Maureen, who shrugged. Some help she was. Finally, April sighed.

"Alright Roger. Go have fun with your buddies. But I'm holding you to you promise. Tomorrow, you and me, and you're not getting out of it."

Roger grinned, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. He knew he was lucky to have such an understanding girlfriend.

"So, where're you going?"

"This club Jake talked about, the Cat Scratch Club or something like that. I don't know much about it."

Out of the corner of his eye he looked at Mark to see if anything would give him away. Mark tried to look as though he hadn't heard his friend in order to keep from having to say anything. Maureen, for once, kept her mouth shut. Roger didn't know why he had a problem with admitting he'd been there before, but it didn't seem like the right time to announce he frequented strip clubs.

April nodded slowly, "Alright. Call me in the morning."

She had subtly told him she was disappointed in him by ignoring his offer to come over after. Roger fought to keep the guilt from his voice.

"You going home?"

"Yeah," she replied, "I guess I'll head home. It's getting late."

She tried to signal him with her eyes. She was giving him an invitation to earn points and offer to take her home before going to the club. Inside, she was secretly hoping he would and then not leave.

Roger knew it would be the sweet, loving boyfriend thing to do, but he didn't want to make the boys wait. He pondered if he could get her home and then leave right away, or would that make it worse. The moment passed.

"Come on April," Mark offered, "We'll take you home. We can share a cab and then drop you off before we go home. You shouldn't go home alone at this hour."

He glanced at Roger with a bright face, knowing he had gotten his friend out of a tight spot and now he was free to go with the guys. Roger glared at him angrily, startling Mark. He tried to figure out what was going on, but Roger had turned away again, so Mark just put his arm around Maureen and turned towards the exit. They started to leave but Roger grabbed April's arm and they all stopped.

"Don't bother Mark," he said coolly, "I'll take her home."

April looked at him, confused.

"I'm your boyfriend, that's my job."

Her normally bright eyes clouded.

"Your _job_? What does that mean?" she asked indignantly.

Roger shrugged, "You know, its what a good boyfriend should do."

"Now _that's_ penisy," Maureen muttered.

"It has nothing to do with being a good boyfriend," April snapped, "Anyone with half a brain would know that it's the right thing to do, considering what neighborhood we're in and what time it is."

"Exactly! And I offered to do it! But apparently you don't want me, you want Mark. So why don't just go home with him and give him a nice thank you present. Maybe you guys can have a threesome. If you're into that sort of thing Maureen," he added, finally acknowledging her presence. Mark's eyes widened in shock and pain and Maureen's jaw dropped silently.

April's whole body shook with anger, "how dare you talk to me like that! I have been nothing but loyal to you Roger, and I'm not going to take this. Don't try to turn this on me, this is all about you. Go have fun with your buddies, get drunk, lay in a gutter for all I care!"

"I don't need your permission!" Roger barked, "I do whatever the hell I want and I don't need you to tell me it's ok. Go on April, just go home."

She opened her mouth, ready to retort, but stopped midway. She was sick of arguing and sick of fighting; this wasn't going to get them anywhere. She moved closer to him until their faces were merely inches apart.

"You may think you look tough Roger Davis," she hissed, "but I know better. You don't fool me and don't fool anyone else with your disguise."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out, head held high and proud. Maureen watched her leave in awe but Mark kept his eyes glued on Roger, who was slowly shaking his head. He looked as if he wanted to call her something, but couldn't find a name that was bad enough. His blue eyes were cold as ice and yet burned with a passionate fire that Mark rarely saw. He was a little frightened of that look. Mark bit his lip and glanced at Maureen, who was still staring at the place where April had disappeared. Slowly, he spoke.

"Roger?"

"Just go," he responded, not looking at him.

"Listen, if you want to-"

"Just go Mark!" he said sternly, not quite yelling but with a loud voice.

Mark stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Maureen used the cover of her coat to tug on Mark's arm, urging him to leave. Hesitantly, he turned away and followed his girlfriend outside to find April and go home. He could feel his friend's eyes on him as he walked, but he did not look back.

* * *

The song "Precious Little Meltdown" belongs to Adam Pascal. No, I did not write it myself. Normally I don't like taking other people's work, but since it's Adam Pascal and the song was so Roger-like, I figured it was okay. Review just so I know someone's still reading this.


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